Wit and Mirth: or Pills to Purge Melancholy Volume VI Part 30
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[Music]
As I came down the hey Land Town, There was La.s.ses many, Sat in a Rank, on either Bank, And ene more gay than any; Ise leekt about for ene kind Face, And Ise spy'd _w.i.l.l.y Scroggy_; Ise spir'd of him what was her Name, And he caw'd her _Kathern Loggy_.
A sprightly bonny Gurl sha was, And made my Heart to rise _Joe_; Sha was so fair sa blith a La.s.s, And Love was in her Eyes so: Ise walkt about like ene possest, And quite forgot poor _Moggy_; For nothing now could give me rest, But bonny _Kathern Loggy_.
My pratty _Katy_ then quoth I, And many a Sigh I gave her; Let not a Leard for _Katy_ die, But take him to great Favour: Sha laught aloud, and sa did aw, And bad me hemward to ge; And still cry'd out awaw, awaw, Fro bonny _Kathern Loggy_.
A Fardel farther I would see, And some began to muse me; The La.s.ses they sat wittally, And the Lads began to Rooze me: The Blades with Beaus came down she knows, Like ring Rooks fro _Strecy Boggy_; And four and twanty _Highland_ Lads, Were following _Kathern Loggy_.
When I did ken this muckle Trame, And every ene did know her; I spir'd of _w.i.l.l.y_ what they mean, Quo he they aw do Mow her: There's ne'er a La.s.s in aw _Scotland_, From _Dundee_ to _Strecy Boggy_; That has her Fort so bravely Mann'd, As bonny _Kathern Loggy_.
At first indeed I needs must tell, Ise could not well believe it; But when Ise saw how fow they fell, Ise could not but conceive it.
There was ne'er a Lad of any note, Or any deaf young Roguey; But he did lift the welly Coat, Of bonny _Kathern Loggy_.
Had I kenn'd on Kittleness, As I came o'er the Moore _Joe_; Ise had n'er ban as Ise ha dun, Nor e'er out-stankt my seln so: For I was then so stankt with stint, I spurr'd my aw'd Nagg _Fogey_; And had I kenn'd sha had been a Wh.o.r.e, I had ne'er Lov'd _Kathern Loggy_.
(_The_ Catholick _Brother_) _A_ SONG.
[Music]
Dear _Catholick_ brother are you come from the Wars, So lame of your foots and your Face full of Scars; To see your poor _Shela_ who with great grief was fill'd, For you my dear Joy when I think you were kill'd.
_With a Fa la, la._
O my shoul my dear _Shela_, I'm glad you see me, For if I were dead now, I could not see thee; The Cuts in my Body, and the Scars in my Face, I got them in Fighting for Her Majesty's Grace.
But oh my dear _Shela_ dost thou now love me, So well as you did, e're I went to the Sea; By _Cri----_ and St. _Pa----_ my dear Joy I do, And we shall be Married to morrow Just now.
I'll make a Cabin for my dearest to keep off the Cold, And I have a Guinea of yellow red Gold; To make Three halfs of it I think will be best, Give Two to my _Shela_ and the Tird to the _Priest_.
Old _Philemy_ my Father was full Fourscore Years old, And tho' he be dead he'll be glad to be told; That we Two are Married, my dear spare no cost, But send him some Letter, upon the last Post.
_The Triumphs of_ PEACE, _or the_ WIDDOWS _and_ MAIDS _Rejoycing_.
[Music]
Dear Mother I am Transported, To think of the boon Comrades; They say we shall all be Courted, Kind Widows as well as maids, Oh! this will be joyful News: _We'll dress up our Houses with Holly, We'll broach a Tub of humming Bub, To treat those that come with a rub a dub dub, For dear Mother they'll make us Jolly._
Dear Mother to see them mounted, 'Twou'd tickle your Heart with Joy; By me they all shall be counted, Heroical Sons of _Troy_:
The Bells in the Steeples shall ring, _We'll stick all our Houses with Holly_, _We'll broach a Tub of humming Bub_, _To treat those that comes with a rub a dub dub_, _For dear Mother they'll make us Jolly_.
I'll dress me as fine as a Lady, Against they come into the Town; My Ribbonds are all bought ready, My Furbelow-Scarf and Gown; To pleasure the Warlike Boys, _We'll dress up our Houses_, &c.
They are delicate brisk and Brawny, Troth neither too lean nor fat; No matter for being Tawny, They're never the worse for that; We'll give them a welcome Home, _And dress up our Houses_, &c.
They come from the Field of Battle, To quarter in Ladies Arms; 'Tis pretty to hear them Prattle, And tell of their loud Alarms: We'll Crown them with Garlands gay, _And dress up our Houses_, &c.
Those boys are the Pride of _Britain_, They love us and so they may; Dear Mother it is but fitting, We shou'd be as kind as they: The Conduits shall run with Wine, _We'll dress up our Houses_, &c.
Those battling Sons of Thunder, Now at their returning back; I know they will be for Plunder, Virginities go to wrack: But let them do what they please, _We'll dress up our Houses_, &c.
_A_ SONG. _Set and Sung by Mr._ LEVERIDGE _at the_ Theatre.
[Music]
Fill the Gla.s.s, fill, fill, fill the Gla.s.s, Let Hautboys sound, whilst bright _Celinda_, Bright _Celinda's_ Health go round.
Fill the Gla.s.s, fill, fill, fill the Gla.s.s, Let Hautboys sound, whilst bright _Celinda_, Bright _Celinda's_ Health goes round.
With eternal Beauty blest, ever blooming, Ever blooming still be best; Drink your Gla.s.s, drink your gla.s.s, Drink your Gla.s.s and think, Think, think the rest, Drink your Gla.s.s and think, Think, think the rest.
_An_ IRISH SONG.
Hub ub, ub, boo; Hub ub, ub, boo; Dish can't be true, De War dees cease, But der's no Peash, I know and find, 'Tis Sheal'd and Sign'd, But won't believe 'tis true, Hub, ub, ub, boo, Hub ub, ub, boo.
_A hone, a hone_, Poor _Teague's_ undone, I dare not be, A Rapparee, I ne'er shall see, _Magraw Macree_, Nor my more dear Garone, _A hone, a hone._
Awa, awa, I must huzza, 'Twill hide my Fears, And save my Ears, The Mob appears, Her'sh to _Na.s.sau_, Dear Joy 'tis _Usquebaugh_, Huzza, Huzza, Huzza.
_The_ BATH _Teazers: Or a Comical Description of the Diversions at_ BATH.
[Music]
I'll tell thee _d.i.c.k_ where I have lately been, _There's rare doings at_ Bath, Amongst Beauties divine, the like was ne'er seen, _There's rare doings at_ Bath, And some dismal Wits that were eat up with Spleen, _There's rare doings at_ Bath.
_There's rare doings at_ Bath.
_Raffling and Fidling, and Piping and Singing,_ _There's rare doings at_ Bath.
Where all drink the Waters to recover Health, And some sort of Fools there throw off their Wealth, And now and then Kissing, and that's done by stealth, _There's rare doings_, &c.
Wit and Mirth: or Pills to Purge Melancholy Volume VI Part 30
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Wit and Mirth: or Pills to Purge Melancholy Volume VI Part 30 summary
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