A

The COBLER'S End.

COBLER there was, and he liv'd in a stall,

Which ferv'd him for parlour, for kitchen, and

No coin in his pocket, no care in his pate,

No ambition had he, nor duns at his gate,
Derry down, down, down, derry down.

(hall,

Contented he work'd, and he thought himself happy, If at night he cou'd purchase a jug of brown nappy, He'd laugh then, and whistle, and fing too moft fweet, Saying, Juft to a hair, I've made both ends meet, Derry down, &c.

But love, the disturber of high and of low,
That shoots at the peasant, as well as the beau,
He shot the poor cobler quite thorough the heart;
I wish it had hit fome more ignoble part,

Derry down, &c.

It was from a cellar this archer did play,
Where a buxom young damfel continually lay;
Her eyes fhone fo bright when she rose every day,
That she shot the poor cobler quite over the way,
Derry down, &c.

VOL. IV.

I

He

He fung her love-fongs as he fat at his work,
But she was as hard as a Jew, or a Turk;

When ever he spoke, fhe wou'd flounce and wou'd tear,
Which put the poor cobler quite into despair,
Derry down, &c.

He took up his aul, that he had in the world,
And to make away with himself was refolv'd;
He pierc'd thro' his body inftead of the fole,
So the cobler he dy'd, and the bell it did toll,
Derry down, &c.

And now, in good will, I advise, as a friend, All coblers take notice of this cobler's end:

Keep your hearts out of love, for we find by what's

That love brings us all to an end at the last,

Derry down, down, down, derry down.

(past,

To attain a Long Life.

OME, hear me, my boy, haft a mind to live long,
Take a defe of brisk claret, and part of a fong;

A gen'rous heat good wine does impart,
And time to good mufick is beat by the heart:
Let each be content with his own proper ftore,

And keep ourselves honeft, tho' the world keeps us

poor.

In Praise of CLARET.

N fpite of love, at length I find, I A mifarefs that can please me;

Her humour free and unconfin'd,

Both night and day fhe'll ease me:
No jealous thoughts difturb my mind,
Tho' fhe's enjoy'd by all mankind:
Then drink, and never spare it,
'Tis a bottle of good claret.
Chor. Then drink, &c.

If you, thro' all her naked charms,
Her little mouth discover,

Then take her blufhing to your arms,
And ufe her like a lover;
Such liquor fhe'll diftil from thence,
As will tranfport your ravifh'd fense:
Then kifs, and never spare it,
'Tis a bottle of good claret..
Chor. Then kifs, &c..

But, beft of all! fhe has no tongue,

Submiffive fhe obeys me;

She's better old by far than young,
And still to fmiling fways me;

I 2

Her

Her skin is fmooth, complection black,
And has a moft delicious fmack:
Then kifs, and neve spare it,
'Tis a bottle of good claret.
Chor. Then kifs, &c.

If

you

her excellence wou'd tafte,
Be sure you use her kind, fir;
Clap your hand about her waist,
And raise her up behind, fir;
As for her bottom never doubt,
Push but home, and you'll find it out:
Then drink, and never spare it,
'Tis a bottle of good claret.

Chor. Then drink, &c.

M

The LOVER's Death.

YRTILLO, am'rous, young, and gay,
The beauteous Flavia lov'd;

Sighing at her feet he lay,

Till fighs her pity mov'd.

My fair, he cry'd, your lover dies,

If

you refuse your charms :

Die when you please, the nymph replies;

But die in Flavia's arms.

On

On bis MISTRESS who Squints.

NEW can avoid the common ills

FE

Attending cruel eyes,

And fewer those when Sylvia kills,
Or ruins by furprize.

Th' admiring crowd approach the fair,
And do with wonder gaze,

And none fufpect a danger there,
She looks fo many ways.

Thus the fair tyrant, in disguise,
Secures the heedlefs fwain;
And when he's dazzled by her eyes,
Unknown, puts on her chain.

So porcupines, from every part,
Their arrows do let fly,
Whilft we, regardless of the dart,
Are wounded by't, and die.