FROM MY DEAR NATIVE VILLAGE AIR.-Lough Sheeling FROM my dear native village a long time away, And I wish'd to review the lov'd haunts of my play, Where youth pass'd so fleeting, yet blissful the while, Ere the heart felt a pang from dark falsehood or guile. As my steps were bent homeward, how memory flew O'er the scenes and the names that my infancy knew ; In fancy the brook ran its winding way still, And the sunbeams of noon falling bright on the hill. At length the green hill blest my longwishing eye, But its brook of soft murmurs was silent and dry, The wild-briar tangled where rose-trees had been, The village in ruins, and lonesome the green. My heart sunk within me, and fast came my tears, And I thought of the days of my joywinged years; No friends came to greet me, no children at play, For the proud and the rich drove the humble away. HAD I A HEART FOR FALSEHOOD HAD I a heart for falsehood framed, For tho' your tongue no promise claim'd, But friends in all the aged you'll meet, But when they learn that you have blest Nor fear to suffer wrong, For friends in all the aged you'll meet, And lovers in the young I'VE BEEN SHOPPING AIR.-I've been Roaming. I've been shopping, I've been shopping, -street, And I'm hopping, and I'm hopping, I've been roaming, I've been roaming, I've been roaming, I've been roaming, I've been roaming, I've been roaming, -street, and down Park Up lane. And I'm coming, and I'm coming, I've been roaming, I've been roaming, To Mr. And I'm coming, and I'm coming, With some curly locks bought there I've been roaming, I've been roaming, — street, and every where, Up To my home, to fix my hair. ADIEU! ADIEU! MY NATIVE SHORE ADIEU! adieu! my native shore The night-winds sigh, the breakers roar, And shrieks the wild sea-mew With thee, my bark, I'll swiftly go Nor care what land thou bear'st me to So not again to mine. Welcome, welcome, ye dark blue waves, And, when ye fail my sight, Welcome, ye deserts and ye caves→ JUGGY DELANY. AIR.-Terry O'Rourke. WHEN I was a boy, in the town of Kilkenny, I fell deep in love with sweet Juggy Delany; She'd a nate taper waste, like a cow in the middle, And so sweetly she'd dance to a drum or a fiddle. Singing, whack for ould Ireland! the country for whiskey, The girls are so fair, and the boys all so frisky: For drinking, for fighting, or handling a flail, O! the boys of ould Ireland will never turn tail. Now, the beauties of Juggy, to sing's my intention: If you're dying in love, now, her charms I wont mention: She'd a pair of black eyes, by my soul I'm no joker, Like two holes that were burnt in a blanket by a poker. Singing, whack for ould Ireland, &c |