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When she is by, I leave my work,

(I love her so fincerely) My master comes like any Turk,

And bangs me most severely :
But, let him bang his belly full,

I'll bear it all for Sally;
She is the darling of my heart,

And she lives in our alley.

Of all the days that's in the week,

I dearly love but one day,
And that's the day that comes betwixt

A Saturday and Monday;
For then I'm dress’d, all in my best,

To walk abroad with Sally;
She is the darling of my heart,

And she lives in our alley.

My master carries me to church,

And often am I blamed,
Because I leave him in the lurch,

As soon as text is named :
I leave the church in sermon-time,

And link away to Sally ;
She is the darling of my heart,

And she lives in our alley.

When Christmas comes about again,

O then I shall have money; I'll hoard it up, and box and all

I'll give it to my honey:

P 3

I would

I would it were ten thousand pounds,

I'd give it all to Sally;
She is the darling of my heart,

And she lives in our alley.

My master, and the neighbours all,

Make game of me and Sally;
And (but for her) I'd better be

A slave and row a galley:
But when my seven long years are out,

then I'll marry Sally;
O then we'll wed, and then we'll bed,

But not in our alley.

SONG XLI.

SWEET WILLIAMS FAREWELL TO

BLACK-EYED SUS A N.

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LL in the Downs the fleet was moor'd,

The streamers waving in the wind,
When black-ey'd Susan came on board :

Oh! where shall I my true love find?
Tell me, ye jovial sailors, tell me true
If my sweet William sails among the crew!

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William,

Wiliam, who high upon the yard,

Rock'd with the billow to and fro, Soon as her well-known voice he heard,

He figh'd and cast his eyes below : The cord slides swiftly through his glowing hands, And (quick as lightning) on the deck he stands.

So the sweet lark, high pois'd in air,

Shuts close his pinions to his breaft,
(If, chance, his mates shrill voice he hear)

And drops at once into her nest.
The noblest captain in the British fleet
Might envy Williams lips those kiffes sweet.

O Sufan, Susan, lovely dear,

My vows shall ever true remain:
Let me kiss off that falling tear,

We only part to meet again.
Change as ye list, ye winds, my heart shall be
The faithful compass that still points to thee.

Believe not what the landmen say,

Who tempt with doubts thy conftant mind :
They'll tell thee, sailors, when away,

In every port a mistress find.
Yes, yes, believe them when they tell thee fo,
For thou art present wherefoe'er I go.

If to fair Indias coast we fail,

Thy eyes are seen in diamonds bright, Thy breath is Africks spicy gale,

Thy skin is ivory so whitę.

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Thus every beauteous object that I view,
Wakes in my soul some charm of lovely Sue.

Though battle call me from thy arms,

Let not my pretty Susan mourn ;
Though cannons roar, yet safe from harms

William shall to his dear return.
Love turns aside the balls that round me fly,
Left precious tears should drop from Sufans eye.

The boatswain

gave

the dreadful word, The fails their swelling bosom spread; No longer muft she stay on board :

They kiss'd, the figh'd, he hung his head; Her less'ning boat unwilling rows to land: Adieu ! she cries, and wav'd her lily hand.

SONG XLII.

FROM THE LAPLAND TONGUE.

BY SIR RICHARD STEEL?

THvites my Fair to rural play,

HOU rising fun, whose gladsome ray
Dispell the mist, and clear the skies,
And bring my Orra to my eyes.

Oh! were I sure my dear to view,
I'd climb that pine-trees topmost bough,
Aloft in air that quivering plays,
And round and round for ever gaze.

My

My Orra Moor, where art thou laid ?
What wood conceals my sleeping maid?
Fast by the roots enrag'd I'd tear
The trees that hide my promis’d fair.

Oh! could I ride on clouds and skies,
Or on the ravens pinions rise !
Ye storks, ye swans, a moment stay,
And waft a lover on his

way !

My bliss too long my bride denies,
Apace the wafting summer flies:
Nor yet the wintry blasts I fear,
Not storms or night shall keep me here.

What may for strength with steel compare?
Oh! Love has fetters stronger far:
By bolts of steel are limbs confin'd,
But cruel Love enchains the mind,

No longer then perplex thy breaft,
When thoughts torment, the first are best ;
'Tis mad to go, 'tis death to stay,
Away to Orra, haste away!

SONG

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