HAPPY ARE WE, NIGGARS SO GAY. AIR.-Maid of Cashmere.

HAPPY are we piggars so gay,

Come let us sing, laugh while we play,
The serenader's favorite lay,
Come, let us sing, laugh while we play,
Music delicious,

Ah! den how sweet,
Your kind applause,

We all hope to meet,
Happy are we niggars so gay
Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, hah!
Laugh while we play.

Madam Celeste she has de mind,
To dance and act de pantomine,
Elssler de great she has the face,
To dance de Cachuca vid de-coup-de grace
Dancing delicious,

To see such grace,
With well shaped ancles
And pretty face.

Happy are we, &c,

La, la, la.

But we serenaders with blackened face, Have not altogether the mind or the grace, Of these great dancers so greatly extolled, But have de harmony wid music threefold. Music delicious, &c. Ha, ha, ha

JENNY LIND.

AIR.-Lucy Nea

FROM Sweden's northern city
The sound of song was heard
The charm of gushing melody
The notes of a singing bird;
'Twas not low music on the gale,
Nor bells upon the wind;

66

It was the voice of a Nightingale,"
Whose name is Jenny Lind.

Oh! charming Jenny Lind,
Sweet warbling Jenny Lind,
Welcome to Old England's shores,
And honor you shall find.

Now down into the Haymarket,
This Nightingale has flew ;
Oh! what will Persiani then
And Tamburini do?

Now Jenny's at the Opera,

The Garden will be thinned,

For the Queen and Albert's sure to go

To hear sweet Jenny Lind.

Oh! charming Jenny Lind,
Magic Jenny Lind, &c.

Ok don't you know the Poet Man,
And don't you know his name,

Oh! don't you know the Hot Cross Bun,
That lives in Drury Lane?

He tried to catch this Nightingale
(Lord how de nigger grinned)
By putting salt upon her tail,
But away flew Jenny Lind,

Charming Jenny Lind, &c.

Oh! won't I pack up de old banjo,
And screw de steam on tight,
And now she has to England come,
I'll grab her some fine night
And to old Carolina go;

I'm darned if I ain't skinned,
To show de free-born 'Mericans
De lubly Jenny Lind.

So come long Jenny Lind,
My charming Jenny Lind,
Dis child shall play on de old banjo,
While you sing, Jenny Lind.

Oh! if she wants a husband smart,
Why I does want a wife;

I'll gib her my Ethiopian heart,
And lub her all my life.

Dere's many a prince and gen’alman

Dat's whiter dan me skinned,

Won't bear so true a heart as mine
For lovely Jenny Lind.

Charming Jenny Lind, &c.

When I was down in Kentucky
I saw a Venus there,

But she to Madam Jenny Lind
Was nothing to compare;

Oh! lub, you've been de nigger's ruin,
Since Modern Eve first sinned,

And you have been my own undoin'
Wicked Jenny Lind.

Oh! farewell Jenny Lind,
Wicked Jenny Lind,

I'll hang myself for your dear sake,
And dangle in de wind.

DE NIGHT'S WHEN WE WENT COON HUNTING.

AIR.-In the days when we went Gipsying.

In de nights when we went coon hunting, Down in massa's field,

We do our best de coon to catch,

Because we know he'll steal;
But when at night we cotch de coon,
We dance upon de green,
We am de happiest niggers den,

Dat eber yet was seen.

CHORUS

And dus we passed de pleasant time,

Nor thought ob care or woe,

An' we am de Serenaders,

From away down below.

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De grass smell sweet de coon look neat,

As in de grass he lay,

He crouch himself up head an' feet,
He's cunning as de day;

But when you hear de ole dogs bark,
At first cum faint and low,
Den ebery nigger he will start,
For a coon is nigh he'll know
An' dus we pass, &c,

We fill our pipe full ebery nite,
An take a todd to cheer

Us 'fore we start by de moonlight
For de coon we lub so dear
Den ob de coon we're shure to tink,
How happy we would be,

If we only had him long wid us,
Beneath de old gum tree

An' dus we pass, &c.

BRESS THAT LUBLY YALLER GAL.

Oн, bress dat lubly yaller gal,

Dat de white folks call Miss Dinah,

Oh, pity me ye niggas all,

And tell me where I can find her.
Oh, now she's gone and left you,
For fear dat you would harm her
To day after to-morrow,
She's gone to Alabama.