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My labour's hard; but still 'tis sweet,
And easy to endure;

For, while I go to thrash the wheat,
I comfort rich and poor.

And merrily sing, as I swing round the flail,
My reward, when work's over, a jug of brown ale.

If from the wheat the bread is born,
Our miseries to cheer,

'Tis merry Sir John Barleycorn
Supplies us with the beer.

Besides, while thus I thrash the corn,
Our pleasures to insure,

I for my neighbour's good was born,
A baker and a brewer;

For I bake, and I brew, as 1 fling round my fail, To provide them with bread and a mug of brown ale.

'Tis for myself, when all is said,
I work thus with such glee;
For if for others I make bread,
My labour's bread to me.
For other mouths I must provide,
My children must be fed ;

My wife and some sick friend beside,
Who cannot earn bis bread

With these notions I merrily swing round my flail, My reward, when work's over, a jug of brown ale.

And when my mortal race is run,
All toil and labour vain,

A jolly thrasher shall my son
His crazy dad maintain.

Thus will I work, and laugh, and sing,

And at my thrashing toil


Unless I'm called on by my king
To guard my native soil;

Then, accustomed to thrashing, I'll swing round the flail,

And thrash the proud foe to secure my brown ale.


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When a pretty little boy,

A young merchantman so gay,
With my lollipops and toys,

Of Duke's place I bore the sway.
The pretty little maidens,

With their pretty little smile,
Dey stole my little heart,
For my senses they beguile.

Spoken.] Vell, I remember the day when I tramped with my little shop round my neck, and turned my honest living; but den de little shedebels always was upon my thoughts-dere (was their cry) dere goes sweet Mr. Levi! dere goes charming Mr. Levi! dere goes handsome Mr. Levi! dear me! dear me !-the sound of their pretty little voices always made me sing,

Fal, lal, la, &c.

A few years pass away,
And a young man soon I grows,
When around in London streets,
I chant away old clothes;
Clo sale-clo sale-clo-

I raise aloud the cry,

And as I pass along,

How the pretty damsels sigh.

Spoken] Bless thy heart! vell, vat can I do? I console vith 'em as vell as I am able; and tho' a circumscribed Jew, I tickles their fancy as well as the best, for I always makes 'em sing,

Fal lal la, &c.

Den my uncle Aaron died,
And I was heir for life:
So I thought myself as how
To get a little vife;
I'd kissed and toyed away

With many a vixen she,
But I vanted one alone

To kiss and toy vid me.

Spoken] So I left off trading in old clothes, to trade vith ladies' hearts; so I makes love to Miss Rachael, and she, beautiful creatures, melts my heart like a stick of Dutch sealing wax, which makes me sing,

Fal lal la, &c.

So married soon I got,

And sung 56 Begone, dull care,"

And nine months after that,
I danced a little heir;
Then Jacob, Mo, and Sue,
Vid Samuels so sly,
How happy was the Jew,
Vid such a family.

Spoken] Bless my heart, what a happy rogue vas I; I thought myself richer than Solomon in all his glory, for I had got the true begotten children of my heart around me, and vat could my vife and I do but sing,

Fal lal la, &c.




Food 12

O! Life is like a summer flower,
Blooming but to wither;
O! love is like an April hour-
Tears and smiles together.
And hope is but a vapour light,

The lover's worst deceiver;
Before him now it dances bright,
And now 'tis gone for ever.

O! joy is but a passing ray,
Lovers' hearts beguiling;

A gleam that cheers a winter's day,
Just a moment smiling.

But though in hopeless dark despair,
The thread of life may sever,
Yet while it beats, dear maid, I swear,
My heart is thine for ever.


Oh! slumber, my darling, thy sire is a knight,
Thy mother a lady so lovely and bright;

The hills and the dales from the tower which we


They all shall belong, my dear infant, to thee.
Oh! rest thee, babe, rest thee, sleep on till day;
Oh! rest thee, babe, rest thee, sleep while you


Oh! rest thee my darling, the time it shall come, When thy sleep shall be broken by trumpet and





Then rest thee, my, darling, oh! sleep while you


For war comes with manhood, as light comes with day.

Oh! rest thee, babe rest thee, sleep on till day, Oh! rest thee, babe, rest thee, sleep while you


Oh! hark thee, young Henry, thy sire is a knight,
Thy mother a lady, so lovely and bright;
The hills and the dales from the tow'rs that I see,
They all shall belong, my young Henry, to thee.
Oh! rest thee, babe, rest thee, sleep on till day;
Oh! rest thee, babe, rest thee, sleep while you


Scots, wha hae wi' Wallace bled!
Scots, wham Bruce has often led!
Welcome to your gory bed,

Or to glorious victory!

Now's the day, and now's the hour!
See the front of battle lour!
See approach proud Edward's power!
Edward! chains and slavery!

Wha will be a traitor knave?
Wha can fill a coward's grave?
Wha sae base as be a slave!

Traitor coward turn and flee!
Wha for Scotland's king and law,
Freedom's sword will strongly draw➡
Freeman stand, or freeman fa',
Caledonia! on wi' me!

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