Tho' murdering carnage stalks in view, OH! TWINE A WREATH OF EVERGREEN. Oh! twine a wreath of evergreen, And with it deck the brow Of him, who 'mid life's varied scenes, Whose anxious thoughts will ever turn, Oh, twine a wreath, &c. How few, 'mid pleasures dazzling scenes, How few, who wealth and power obtain, Too oft, in youth's gay sunny days, Deceive the guileless heart. Oh, twine a wreath, &c. WITHIN A MILE OF EDINBURGH. 'Twas within a mile of Edinburgh town, In the rosy time of the year, Sweet flowers bloom'd, and the grass was down, The lassie blush'd, and frowning, eried, I canna, canna, winna, winna, munna buckle to Jockey was a wag that ne'er wad wed, Bonny Jockey, blythe and free, Yet still she blush'd, and frowning, cried, I canna, canna, winna, winna, munna buckle to. But when he vow'd he wad make her his bride, Bonny Jockey, blythe and free, At church, she nae mair frowning cried, I canna, canna, winna, winna, munna buckle to. THE TRUMPET SOUNDS. He was fam'd for deeds of arms, Love to conquest now must yield; Battle now with fury glows! And now the trumpet sounds to arms: He with love and conquest burns, Rush'd and caught him in her arms. death! she cries, thou'rt welcome now to me, For hark! the trumpet sounds a victory. HARK AWAY. When the forehead of Phoebus illumines the east, Then the chase, the blithe chase, gives a zest to the day, And thought sinks immersed in the loud bark away. And echo repeats what is said, Then hither, ye wretched, be blissful, be gay, And swell the blithe chorus of hark, hark, away. Of old lovely Dian, with buskin and spear, Brush'd the glittering dew from the plain; For the sports of celestials could never compare With the sports of Di and her train, Then who'd give to Morpheus one moment of day When the horn glads the senses with hark, hark away. Though Diogenes liv'd as the tyrant of mirth, Had he followed the chase, not a doubt of man's worth, Would have enter'd his cynical mind, But drown his vile mandates, with hark, hark, &c. OF WINE, OF ROSY WINE. Of wine, rosy wine around; Oh, fill the goblet high, Let friendship's hand the cup compound, A draught of sun beam steep'd in dew. Ideal roses breath and bloom. While mortals drink, old earth move round, SWEET KATHLANE MACREE. Ye winds and ye waves, bear my sorrow away, And ye echoes go babble, for nought can I say! Oh, bear to the ear of sweet Kathlane Macree, That my thoughts are on her, tho' she thinks not of me. Och why will you wander like goose leaving gander Sweet Kathlane Macree, sweet Kathlane Macree. Now union's the word, it is not keeping order, And when dead, I will own myself still your old slave. Then will you wander, &c. TAKE A BUMPER AND TRY. The women all tell me I'm false to my lass N |