ENGLISH SONGS.

MRS. FLINN, AND THE BOLD DRAGOON.

There was an ancient fair, O she lov'd a nate young man. And she could not throw sly looks at him, but only through her fan,

With her winks and blinks, this waddling minx,
Her quizzing glass, her leer and sidle,

O, she lov'd a bold dragoon with his long sword, saddle,

bridle.

Whack! row de dow,

dow.

She had a rolling eye, its fellow she had none,

Would you know the reason why, it was, because she had

but one;

With her winks and blinks, this waddling minx,
She could'nt keep her one eye idle,

Oh, she leer'd at this Dragoon, with his, &c.

Now he was tall and slim, she squab and short was grown, He look'd just like a mile in length, and she like a mile. stone;

With her winks and blinks, this waddling minx,
Her quizzing glass, her leer and sidle,

Oh, she sigh'd for this Dragoon, with his, &c.

Soon he led unto the church the beauteous Mrs. Flinn, Who a walnut could have crack'd 'tween her lovely nose and chin;

Ob! then such winks in marriage links,

The four foot bride from church did sidle,

As the wife of this Dragoon, with his, &c.

A twelvemonth scarce had pass'd when he laid her under ground.

Soon he threw the onion from his eyes and touch'd ten

thousand pounds;

For her winks and blinks her money chinks,

He does not let her cash lie idle.

So long life to this Dragoon, with her, &c.

Merrily oh merrily oh!

There the warrior's arms

Shed more splendour ;

There the maiden's charms
Shine more tender;

Every joy the land surroundeth,

Merrily, merrily, merrily, merrily, merrily, merrily oh

Merrily oh! merrily oh!

Merrily oh! merrily oh!

THE EXILE OF ERIN.

TUNE.-Erin Go Bragh.

There came to the beach a poor exile of Erin,
The dew on his thin robe hung heavy and chill;
For his country he sigh'd, when at twilight repairing,
To wander alone by the wind-beaten hill.
But the day-star attracted his eye's sad devotion,
For it rose o'er his own native isle of the ocean,
Where once in the gl, of his youthfui emotion,
He sang the bold anthem of ERIN GO BRAGH!
, sad is my fate! said the heart-broken stranger,
The wild deer and wolf to a covert can fles;
But I have no refuge from famine and danger,
A home and a country remain not to me;
Ah! never again in the green sunny bowers,
Where my forefathers liv'd shall I spend the sweet hours,
Or cover my harp with the wild woven flowers,

And strike to the numbers of ERIN GO BRAGH!

O, where is the cottage that stood by the wild wood,
Sisters and sire, did ye weep for its fall!

O, where is my mother, that watch'd o'er my childhood
And where is the bosom-friend dearer than all!
Ah! my sad sou!, long abandon'd by pleasure,
O, why did it doat on a fast fading treasure-
Tears, like the rain drops, may fall without measure,
But rapture and beauty they cannot recall!

Erin my country, though sad and forsaken,
In dreams I revisit thy sea-beaten shore;
But alas! in a far distant land I awaken,

And sigh for the friends who can meet me no more!
O hard cruel fate, wilt thou never replace me
In a mansion of peace where no peril can chase me!
Ah! never again shall my brothers embrace me,
They died to defend me, or live to deplore!

But yet all its fond recollection suppressing,
One dying wish my lone bosom shall draw :
Erin, an exile, bequeaths thee his blessing,
Land of my forefathers ERIN Go Bragh!
Buried and cold, when my heart stills its motion,
Green be thy fields, sweetest isle of the ocean,
And thy harp-striking bards sing aloud with dovetion
O, ERIN NA Voursın, Fain Ču Badon !

THE CHAPTER OF FASHIONS.

FASHION was form'd when the world began,
And Adam, I'm told was a very smart man ;
As for Eve, I shall say nothing more or less,
But that the ladies of fashion now copy her dress.
Yet barring all pother, of this, that, or t'other,
We all bow to fashion in turn.

The fashion next came to go hunting poor brutes,
And Nimrod invented the fashion of boots
For he was a buck though he had'nt a wife ·
And never saw Bond-street perhaps in his life.
Yet barring, &c.

The Barons of old wore comical clothes,

And their shoes were turned up like a critical nose,
Your Henry's and Edward's were famous for dress;
But ale and beef-steaks were the fashion with Bess.

Yet barring, &c.

In the days of King Charles you distinguish'd a prig,
By the length of his cane, and the size of his wig.
Cromwell's hats were all broad, and his head it was round,
And his hair hung like candles sixteen to the pound.
Yet barring &c.

The Tories wore wigs in the reign of Queen Ann ;
Now wigs suit the female as well as the man;

Few crops but in corn-fields you'd formerly meet;
Now there's few in the fields, but enough in the street.
Yet barring, &c.

However the fashions are subject to change,
One fashion exists, if it didn't 'twere strange;
'Twas always the fashion each Englishman knows,
To be true to his King, and to humble his foes.
Yet barring, &c.

Now fashion's arrived at a wonderful height,
For what's boorish at noon, is quite stylish at night.
So bore ye with style, and they style ye a bore,
As perhaps you may me if I sing any more.

Yet barring, &c.

DULL CARES.

Why should we at our lots repine,
Or grieve at our distress?
Some think if they should riches gain,
They'd gain true happiness;
Alas. how vain is all their gain,

Since life will soon decay

And since we're here with friends so dear
Let's drive dull cares away.

Why should the rich despise the poor?
Why should the poor repine?

A little time will make us all

In equal friendship join :

We're much to blame-we're all the same Alike we're made of clay

And since we're here with friends so dear,
Let's drive dull cares away..

The only circumstance in life,
That ever I could find,

To soften care and temper mirth,

Is sweet content of mind;

With such a store we have much more

Than e'er we can convey;

And since we'er here with friends so dear Let's drive dull cares away.

Let's make the best we can of life,

Nor render it a curse;

But take it as you would a wife,

For better or for worse:

Life at the best is but a jest,

A dreary winter's day,

And since we're here with friends so dear

Let's drive dull cares away.

When age,

old age, comes creeping on,

And we are young no more,

Let's not repine at what we've done,
Nor think our pleasures o'er :
But cheerfully, as formerly,

Be innocently gay

And since we'er here with friends so dear,

Let's drive aull cares away