Behold the ring, the fhepherd cry'd,
Will Jenny be my charming bride;
Let Cupid be our happy guide,

And Hymen meet us there :
Then Jockey did his vows renew,
He wou'd be conftant, wou'd be true;
His word was pledg'd, away fhe flew,
With cowflips tipt with balmy dew,
With Jockey to the Fair;

With cowflips tipt, &c.

In raptures meet the joyful train,

Their gay companions blyth and young,
Each join the dance, each join the throng,
To hail the happy pair ;

In turns there's none fo fond as they,
They blefs the kind propitious day,
The smiling morn of blooming May,
When lovely Jenny run away

With Jockey to the Fair;

We've got a strong scent, and a favouring sky;

The horn's fprightly notes, and the lark's early fong,

Will chide the dull sportsmen for sleeping so long :

Bright Phoebus has fhewn us a glimpfe of his face, Peep'd in at our windows, and call'd to the chafe ; He foon will be up, for his dawn wears away, And makes the fields blush with the beams of his ray.

Sweet Molly may teaze you, perhaps, to lie down, And if you refufe her, perhaps fhe may frown; But tell her that love must to hunting give place, For as well as her charms, there are charms in the chafe.

Look yonder, look yonder, old Reynard I spy, At his brush nimbly follow brifk Chanter and Fly; They feize on their prey, fee his eye balls they roll, We're in at the death-now let's home to the bowl.

There we'll fill up our glaffes, and toast to the King, From a bumper fresh loyalty ever will spring: To George, peace and glory may Hea ven difpenfe, And fox hunters flourish ten thoufand years hence.

SONG 123.

Tune, Young I am, and fore afraid.

YOUNG I am, and yet unskill'd
How to make a lover yield:
How to keep, or how to gain ;
When to love, and when to feign.

Take me, take me, fome of you,
While I yet am young and true;
Ere I do my foul difguife,

Heave my breasts, and roll my eyes.

Stay not 'till I learn the way,
How to lye and to betray:
He that has me first is bleft,
For I may deceive the reft.

Could I find a blooming youth,

Full of love and full of truth,
Brifk, and of a janty mein,
I should long to be fifteen.

1

Sung in Love IN A VILLAGE.

How happy were my days till now!

I ne'er did forrow feel;

With joy I rofe to milk my cow,
Or take my spinning-wheel.

My heart was lighter than a fly,
Like any bird I fung,
'Till he pretended love, and I
Believ'd his flatt'ring tongue.

O! the fool, the filly, filly fool,
That trufts what man may be ;;

I wish I was a maid again,
And in my own country..

Sung in a new Farce called BRITONS STRIKE HOME.

Tune, Then why should we quarrel for riches?

Captain Briton shakes hands with his Crew, and then, ftanding in the midst of them, fings,

COME, the mates of my fortune, be cheary,
No diftrefs fhould the failor alarm,

As the needle be true, and ne'er fear ye,
I'll warrant we'll weather the ftorm.

Then why should we dread any dangers.

From France and her whole Gallic trains.

British feamen to fear ever ftrangers,

Since George rides the lord of the main.

We'll fhew that our English fpirit

The fame in each climate can be ; This ftill be our comfort and merit, That yet in our hearts we are free.

Then why, &c.

At the helm may they ever prove fteady,
To fteer us a course that is right,

Proud France then fhall down with the ready,
They shall either refund or fhall fight.

Then why, &c.

No dastardly thoughts then admitting,
With true loyal hearts we shall fing,
Heav'n profper the arms of Old Britain,
And the honour protect of our King.

Then why, &c.

SONG 1-26.

Sung in BRITONS STRIKE HOME.

Captain Briton placing his Men on each fide of him, fings,

COME, my lads, with fouls befitting,

Let us never be dismay'd,

Let's avenge the wrongs of Britain,,

And fupport her injur'd trade.