IJI.

To let her cows my clover taste,
Have I not rofe by break of day?
Did ever Nanny's heifers faft,

If Robin in his barn had hay?
Tho' to my fields they welcome were,
I ne'er was welcome yet to her.

If ever Nanny loft a fheep,

IV.

I chearfully did give her two; And I her lambs did fafely keep

Within my folds in froft and fnow: Have they not there from cold been free But Nanny ftill is cold to me.

V.

When Nanny to the well did come,
'Twas I that did her pitchers fill;

Full as they were, I brought them home :)
Her corn I carried to the mill

My back did bear the fack, but the
Will never bear a fight of me.

To Nanny's poultry oats I

vi.

gave,

I'm fure they always had the beft;
Within this week her pigeons have
Eat up a peck of peafe at least.
Her little pigeons kifs, but fhe
Will never take a kifs from me.

VII.

Muft Robin always Nanny woo,
And Nanny ftill on Robin frown ?
Alas! poor wretch! what fhall I do,
If Nanny does not love me foon !
If no relief to me she'll bring,
I'll hang me in her apron-firing.

The

B

The Scullion's Complaint.

Y the fide of a great kitchen-fire,
A fcullion fo hungry was laid,
A pudding was all his defire;
A kettle fupported his head.
The hogs that were fed by the house,
To his fighs with a grunt did reply ;.
And the gutter that car'd not a loufe,
Ran mournfully muddily by.

II.

But when it was fet in a difh,
Thus fadly complaining he cry'd,
My mouth it does water, and wish,
I think it had better been fry'd.
The butter around it was spread,
"Twas as great as a prince in his chair ::
Oh! might I but eat it, he faid,

The proof of the pudding lies there.

III:

How foolish was I to believe,

It was made for fo homely a clown ;" Or that it would have a reprieve

From the dainty fine folks of the town?
Could I think that a pudding fo fine
Would ever uneaten remove?

We labour that others may dine,
And live in a kitchen on love.

IV..

What tho' at the fire I have wrought
Where puddings we broil and we fry,.
Tho' part of it hither be brought,
And none of it ever fet by?
Ah Colin! thou must not be first,

Thy knife and thy trencher refign;
There's Margret will eat till fhe burft,-
And her turn is fooner than mine.

Ee 3

And

1

V.

And you, my companions fo dear,
Who forrow to fee me fo pale,
Whatever I fuffer, forbear,

Forbear at a pudding to rail,
Tho' I fhou'd through all the rooms rove,
'Tis in vain from my fortune to go;
"Tis its fate to be often above,

'Tis mine ftill to want it below.

VI.

If while my hard fate. I sustain,
In your breafts any pity be found,
Ye fervants that earliest dine,

Come fee how I lie on the ground:
Then hang up a pan and a pot,

And forrow to fee how I dwell; And fay, when you grieve at my lot, Poor Colin lov'd pudding too well.

VII.

Then back to your meat you may go,
Which you fet in your dishes fo prim,
Where fauce in the middle does flow,
And flowers are firew'd round the brim:
Whilft Colin, forgotten and gone,
By the hedges fhall difmally rove,
Unlefs when he fees the round moon,
He thinks on a pudding above.*

WE

The Hunter's Song.

Hen betimes on the morn to the fields we repair,
We range where the chace may be seated;

At the found of the horn all difturbance and care
Flies away from the din as defeated.

* See the excellent original, above, p. 242. of which this is the burlesque,

Then

II.

Then Jouler did rear, hearing Tolier before,
Brave mufic makes Sweet-lips and Mally,
At the found of the noife the hunters rejoice,
And the fquat makes the ratches to rally.

III.

Then cafting about, we find her anew,
And we raise then a haloo to chear them;
The echoes around from the mountains refound,
Rejoicing all hearts that do hear them.

IV.

And when she turns weak, and her life's at the flake, We take care to make her a feizure;

And foon as we kill, we recover at will,

And home we return at our leifure.

V.

And when we come home, our kind loving dames With the beft of good chear can provide us; Good liquors abound, and healths go round, Till nothing that's bad can betide us.

VI.

Then we rife in a ring, we dance and we fing,
Having enough of our own, none to borrow :
Can the court of a king yield a pleafanter thing?
We're the fame juft to-day as to-morrow.

B

The jolly Bender.

I.

Acchus muft now his power refign,
I am the only god of wine;

It is not fit that wretch fhou'd be

In competition fet with me,

Who can drink ten times more than he.

II.

Make a new world, ye powers divine,
Stock it with nothing else but wine:

Let wine the only product be,
Let wine be earth, be air and fea,
And let that wine be all for me.

Let

IH. :

Let wretched mortals vainly wear.
A tedious life in anxious care,

Let the ambitious toil and think,
Let states and empires fwim or fink,
My foul's ambition is to drink.

The Hay-maker's Song.

Ome, neighbours, now we've made our hay,,
The fun in hafte

Drives to the west,

With fports, with sports conclude the day;
Let every man chufe out his lafs,
And then falute her on the grafs ;
And when you find

She's coming kind,

Let not that moment pafs;. Then we'll tofs off our bowls,

To true love and honour,,

To all kind loving girls,

And the lord of the manor..

At night when round the hall we fit,
With good brown bowls

To chear our fouls,

And raife, and raise a merry chat:
When blood grows warm, and love runs high,
And jokes around the table fly,

Then we retreat,

And that repeat

Which all would gladly try; Then we'll tofs off our bowls, To true love and honour,

To all kind loving girls,

And the lord of the manor.

Let