The pledge shall be our fatherland,
And freedom, friendship, love, and pleasure. Then hurrah for the land of the purple vine, And a deep, deep draught of the good Rhine wine. Like a deep, &c.
[Music by J. PERCY (1790).
Your Molly has never been false she declares
Since the last time we parted at Wapping Old Stairs,
When I swore that I still would continue the same,
And gave you the 'bacco-box marked with my name.
When I pass'd a whole fortnight between decks with
you,
Did I e'er give a kiss, Tom, to one of your crew?
To be useful and kind, with my Thomas I stayed;
For his trousers I washed, and his grog, too, I made.
Though you promised last Sunday to walk in the Mall
With Susan from Deptford, and likewise with Sal,
In silence I stood, your unkindness to hear,
And only upbraided my Tom with a tear.
Why should Sal, or should Susan, than me be more
For the heart that is true, Tom, should ne'er be
Then be constant and kind, nor your Molly forsake; Still your trousers I'll wash, and your grog, too, I'll make.
Comin' through the rye,
Gin a body kiss a body,
Need a body cry?
Every lassie has her laddie,
Ne'er a ane hae I;
Yet a' the lads they smile at me
When comin' through the rye.
Amang the train there is a swain
I dearly lo'e mysell;
But whaur his hame or what his name,
I dinna care to tell.
Gin a body meet a body
Comin' frae the town,
Gin a body greet a body,
Need a body frown?
Every lassie has her laddie,
Ne'er a ane hae I;
Yet a' the lads they smile at me
When comin' through the rye.
Amang the train, &c.
MY AIN FIRESIDE.
[ELIZABETH HAMILTON.]
I hae seen great anes, and sat in great ha's,
Mang lords and fine ladies a' cover'd wi' braws;
At feasts made for princes wi' princes I've been,
Whare the grand shine o' splendour has dazzled my
But a sight sae delightfu' I trow I ne'er spied
As the bonnie blythe blink o' my ain fireside.
My ain fireside, my ain fireside,
Oh, cheery's the blink o' my ain fireside!
My ain fireside, my ain fireside,
Oh, there's nought to compare wi' ane's ain fireside!
Ance mair, Gude be thanket, round my ain heartsome ingle
Wi' the friends o' my youth I cordially mingle;
Nae forms to compel me to seem wae or glad,
I may laugh when I'm merry, and sigh when I'm sad.
Nae falsehood to dread, and nae malice to fear,
But truth to delight me, and friendship to cheer:
Of a' roads to happiness ever were tried,
There's nane half so sure as ane's ain fireside.
My ain fireside, &c.
When I draw in my stool on my cosey hearthstane,
My heart loups sae light I scarce ken't for my ain:
Care's down on the wind-it is clean out of sight,
Past troubles they seem but as dreams of the night.
I hear but kend voices, kend faces I see,
And mark saft affection glent fond frae ilk ee;
Nae fleetchings o' flattery, nae boastings of pride,
'Tis heart speaks to heart at ane's ane fireside.
My ain fireside, &c.
I'm a merry, merry Zingara,
From a golden clime I come;
My passport is my light guitar,
Wheresoe'er my footsteps roam.
I sing of love at the castle gate,
And happy fortunes tell;
I read in the stars the coming fate
Of bachelor and belle.
Tra la la la, ha! ha!
Where'er I call I've a smile for all,
The merry Zingara has a smile for all.
From my Fatherland I'm far away,
And my couch is in some bower,
Where calm I sleep till dawn of day,
My pillow the wild flower.
By twilight's grey at cottage-door,
When lovers I surprise,
I tell how two young hearts adore,
And read it in their eyes.
Tra la la la, ha! ha!
Where'er I call I've a smile for all,
The merry Zingara has a smile for all.
Though lowly my cot, and though poor my estate,
I see without envy the wealthy and great,
Contented, and proud a poor shepherd to be,
While the maid of Llangollen smiles sweetly on me.
My way o'er the mountain I cheerfully take
At morn, when the song-birds their melody wake;
And at eve I return with a heart full of glee,
For the maid of Llangollen smiles sweetly on me.
Glenarvon's rich lord passes scornfully by,
But wealth ne'er can make him as happy as I;
And prouder than even the proudest I'll be,
While the maid of Llangollen smiles sweetly on me..
THE GIPSY GIRL.
[Music by S. GLOVER. They wiled me from my greenwood home, They won me from the tent,
And slightingly .hey spoke of scenes
Where my young days were spent.
They dazzled me with halls of light,
But tears would sometimes start;
They thought 'twas but to charm the eye,
And that might win the heart.
They little knew what ties of love
Had bound me in their spell,
The greenwood was my happiest home,
And there I long to dwell.
Though flowers deck'd the mountain's side,
And fragrance fill'd the vale,
By far the fairest flower there
Was the Rose of Allandale.
Where'er I wander, east or west,
Though fate began to lour,
A solace still was she to me
In sorrow's lonely hour!
When tempests lash'd our gallant bark,
And rent her shiv'ring sail,
One maiden form withstood the storm:
'Twas the Rose of Allandale.
And when my fever'd lips were parch'd
On Afric's burning sand,
She whisper'd hopes of happiness,
And tales of distant land.
My life had been a wilderness,
Unblest by fortune's gale,
Had fate not link'd her fate to mine-
The Rose of Allandale.
THE LASS O' PATIE'S MILL.
The lass o' Patie's mill,
Sae bonnie, blythe, and gay,
In spite of a' my skill,
She stole my heart away.
When teddin out the hay
Bare-headed on the green,
Love 'mid her locks did play,
And wanton'd in her een.
Without the help of art,
Like flowers that grace the wild,
She did her sweets impart
Whene'er she spake or smiled:
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