In the rapid's roar I drown my sighs, And dance sad thoughts away!

La, la, la, &c.

O'er the mighty Hudson's banks I roam,
Through our giant forests stray,
And breathe a sigh for that mountain
home,

And the joys so far away!

In thought, at eve, I join each sport,
And the pastor's blessing share,
With the maidens in their kirtles short,
And their golden-bodkin'd hair.
And when the tear, &c.

THE IVY GREEN.

OH, a darling plant is the Ivy green,
That crawls on the broken wall
Of the ruin'd abbey or fort, I ween,
Or the baron's dismantled hall!
How bleak so e'er the convent isle,
Or dark the castle keep,

He fervently hugs the mould'ring pile,
Though all around him sleep.

Creeping where bold hearts have been,

A fine old plant is the Ivy green.

Though pensive he dwells in the gloomy wreck

Of the monk's or chieftain's tower, Yet, smiling in verdure, he'll fondly deck

The joyous and festive bower.

He clings to the church, and the tombs we adore,

Whose spirits are gather'd above; The squire's proud mansion, the cottager's door,

He circles in friendship and love. Creeping where no strife is seen, A fine old plant is the Ivy green. Since Time first began his stealthy career,

How many his victims have been ! But the ivy yet lives without sorrow or fear,

And is still ever hearty and

green.

The warrior shall perish, his fortress shall fall,

And the beauty relinquish her
charms;

But the ivy will triumph over them all.
And flourish in ruins and storms.
Creeping on to times unseen,
A fine old plant is the Ivy green.

འང་

THE ORIGINAL AND GENUINE LUCY

LONG.

Now attention if you please,
I'll sing you a little song,
It's all about a nigger girl,
Her name is Lucy Long,
But take your time Miss Lucy,
Miss Lucy, Lucy Long;
You're the darling of this nigger,
Take your time Miss Lucy Long.
O, she's a handsome creature,
As ever there could be,
She is a perfect beauty,

She is berry much like me.

But take your time, &c.

Her teeth look like tobacco pipes,
Her skin as bright as soot,

Her eyes just look like two coach lamps,

Like a pickaxe is her foot.

So take your time, &c

She leaves a strong impression,
Wherever she does go;

Her footsteps mark the gravel,
As easily as snow.

But take your time, &c.

Talk about your Taglioni,
And say she jumps so high:
Miss Lucy jumps a five bar gate,
And makes a nigger fly.

But take your time, &c.

In every thing she's clever,
As I to you can show,
She plays upon de fiddle,
While I play the old banjo.

But take your time, &c.

She's active as an earthquake,
Her heart does never fail,
One day she chased a big rackoon
And caught him by the tail.
But take your time, &c

The black eyes of him lady,
Are praised by English lover,
If black's so berry handsome,
My Lucy's black all over.
So take your time, &c

Now, soon we're going to marry, Oh, what a happy day,

But mind you, this old darkey, Won't let her have her way. But take your time, &c

If she prove a scolding wife,
By the hole in my old hat,
I'll trade her away for victuals,
And see how she likes that.
So take your time, &c.

I fear I tire your patience,
And so I finish my song,

If you wish, I'll come some other
night

And sing of Lucy Long.

But take your time, &c.

WE WONT GO HOME TILL MORNING

THE jolly old sun! where goes he at

night?

And what does he do when he's out o'

sight,

(Insinuation scorning ;)

We don't mean to say that he tipples

apace;

We only know he's a very red face

When he gets up in the morning! So here we are as merry as grigs, And here we'll stay, an' it pleases the pigs,

Old Time and his dry glass scorning.