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When the trumpet of war the grand blast was sounding,
You marched to the north with good will,
To relieve the poor slaves in their vile sack clothing,
You used your exertion and skill. You spread out the wings of your envied train,
While tyrants great Cæsar's old nest set in flames,
Their own subjects they caused to eat herbs on the plains,
Are you gone--will I never see you more?
In great Waterloo, where numbers laid sprawling,
In every field, high or low,
Fame on her trumpets through Frenchmen was calling,
Fresh laurels to place on her brow. Usurpers did tremble to hear the loud call, The third old Babe's new buildings did fall, The Spaniards their fleet in the harbor did call,
Are you gone-will I never see you
I'll roam through the deserts of wild Abyssinia,
And yet find no cure for my pain, Will I go and inquire in the isle of St. Helena?
No, we will whisper in vain.
Tell me, you critics, now tell me in time, The nation I will range my sweet linnet to find,
Was he slain at Waterloo, or Elba on the Rhine?
If he was, I will never see him more.
W. J. FLORENCE.
IN August last, on one fine day,
A bobbing around, around, around, When Josh and I went to make hay, We went bobbing around.
Says Josh to me, let's take a walk,
We walked along to the mountain ridge, A bobbing around, around, around,
Till we got near Squire Slipshop's bridge, As we went bobbing around.
Then Josh and I went on a spree,
A bobbing around, around, around, And I kiss'd Josh, and Josh kiss'd me, As we went bobbing around.
Then Josh's pluck no longer tarried,
A bobbing around, around, around, Says he, Dear Patience, let's get married, Then we'll go bobbing around.
Now I knew he loved another gal,
When he went bobbing around.
So after we got into church,
A bobbing around, around, around, I cut and left Josh in the lurch, Then he went bobbing around.
Now all you chaps what's got a gal,
When you go bobbing around.
BEAUTIFUL Erin! I leave thy shore,
This heart still will beat for thee.
Where the homes of my fathers stand; And I'll sing amid the dark woods wide, The songs of my own green land, I'll sing, I'll sing the songs of my own green land,
I'll sing, I'll sing the songs of my own green land.
Breaking the bough with weary toil,
Where my native shamrock grows. Oh! beautiful Erin, then fare-thee-well,
Dear home of my childhood's hours! No more 'mid thy fond bright scenes I
Farewell to thy fields and flowers, Farewell! farewell! farewell to thy fields and flow'rs,
Farewell! loved Erin, oh fare-thee-well,
CUPID to fulfil a duty,
Lately from Idalia passes; Hovering o'er the isle of beauty, Gave the palm to Dublin lasses.
O, the dear delighting lasses,
Venus with a view to teaze him,
Sent him next to Mount Parnassus, De'il a damsel there could please him, Like our charming Dublin lasses. O, the dear, delighting, etc. Love is theirs, best boon of nature, Tendered by the kindred graces, Each endearing glance and feature Binds the heart to Dublin lasses.
O, the dear, delighting, etc.
Music may have charms for many,
O, the dear, delighting, etc.