Glen Collection of printed music > Printed text > Charms of melody, or, Siren medley

[Numb. 9
THE
CHARMS OF MELODY,
O R
SIREN M E D L E r.
The Man of the Publilhcr is to embody in one Grand Polio V'olume, all the Son^s ancient :,r,A mn^,.,n ,^ ,),» i- Tn~i
wet. prel.rvi„g-form,ng ar, Uoiverfal Magazine of Love, Sentir^ental. War, H^nl ^^B ccha"^,iT„ Jirrott S.! !'m'p'iv^';
' as well a. Old Hn.lifl.. IriO.. Scotch and German Ball.d. Legenda,ie. 6.c. a^c.^liyo wh!^;^! bT;drj.'a";rotJ;l'rl
Son
The LaHd in the Ocean.
IN the midft of the fea, like a tough man of war.
Pull away, pull away, yo ho, there !
'Stands an iOand, furpaffing all others by far.
If you doubt ir, you've only to go there :
•By Neptune 'twas built upon Freedom's firm bafe.
And for ever 'twill laft, I've a notion ;
All the world 1 defy to produce fuch a place,
Pull away, pull away, pull away, 1 fay,
As the fnug bit of land in the ocean.
From the oppofite fliore, pufF'd with arrogant pride.
Pull away, pnll away, fo clever;
They have oft fworn as how they would come along
fide.
And oeftroy the poor Ifland for ever :
But Britannia is made of fuch durable fluff.
And lo tightly fhe's rigg'd, I've a notion;
•She'd foon give the faucy inva4ers enough,
Pull away, pull away, pull away, I fay,
If they touch'd at the land in the ocean.
There was Hotve, ever bold in the glorious caufe,
Pull away, pull away, fo ftout, boys .'
"Who gain'd on the firft day of June fuch applaufe,
And Monfieur h« put to the rout boys :
( The nejft was S:. Vincent, who kick'd up a duft.
As the Spaniards can tell, I've a notion;
For they fwore not to ftrike — fays he, dam'me, but
you muft.
Pull away, pull away, pull away, I fay.
To the lads of the land in the ocean.
AJam Duncan came next, 'twas in autumn, you
know.
Pull away, pull away, fo jolly ;
That he made big Mynheer ftrike his flag to a foe,
Againft whom all reliftance was lolly ;
And they fent, as you know, if you're not quite a
dunce.
Such a fad flory home, I've a notion;
How Duncan he beat a whole Winter at once.
Pull away, pall away, pull away, I fay.
What d'je think of the land in the ocean ?
Now the Frenchmen again may come in for their
fhare,
Puil away, pull away, fo hearty!
■For Nelfon will fet all the world in a flare,
And land-lock e'en great Bonaparte:
And we'll beat them again, fliould their flomachs
incline,
But they're all pretty fick, I've a notion ;
Then, may victory's fword to the olive refign,
Pull away, pull away, pull away, I f-ay,
And peace crown the land in the ocean.
Little Befs, the Ballad Singer.
WHEN firft a babe upon the knee,
•My mother us'd to fing to me.
I caught the accents from her tongue.
And e'er I talk'd I liffj'd the fong,
I'm little Befs the ballad finger.
In every village where I came,
They call'd me by my infant name.
And penfive as I rove along.
This Hill's the burthen of my fons:,
I'm little Befs, &c.
Thro' woods and village fcenes I ftrar.
With plaintive fuit and artlefs lay.
And every paflenger I meet.
With lowly curtfey thus I greet,
I'm little Befs, &c.
Johnny's Grave. "
A TARTAN plad was a' fhe had,
The gloomy lift did lour;
The fun was doon, fcarce look'd aboon.
And o'er the hills did glour.
Wi' dolefu' fiep the verdant turf fiie preft.
To Johnny's grave, where a' her forrows reU.
The driving fho\v'r did faft down pour,
Wi' grief (he cou'd na fpeak ;
Thro' ilka bough, the wind did fu<rh,
Iler heart was like to bre.nk.
Wi' dolefu' flep, &c.
Upon his tomb, in waefom gloom.
Her lovely form fhe threw ;
Slie dafp'd the fod, the fully clod.
And lood the weft wind blew.
Wi' throbbing breaft the verdant turf (he preft,
On Johnny's grave, where a' her forrows reft.
What is the fcoul the tempefls howl,
;.The ftorm it hurts not me ;
The driving rains give me no pains,
i\]y foul feel a' ior thee:
As on the grave ftie lay with throbbing breaft
On Johnny's grave, wliere a' her forrows reft.
Shall I bemoan when thou art gone
And wipe tlie tears that ftart;
Upon the turf I've wept enough.
For forrow breaks my heart.
In death ! in death ! the verdant turfflie preft.
On Johnny's grave, where a' her forrows reft.
PUBLISHED at N°- 10, BE D FOR D - R OW, Dublin,
Where the preceding Numbers can be had.