Ye clergy fo rev'rend, priests, vicars, and deacons,
Attend, and you'll certainly own it is true;
That Nottingham ale is the chief of all liquors,
And who understands the dear creature like you?
It difpels ev'ry vapour,
Saves pen, ink, and paper;

And when you're difpos'd in the pulpit to rail,
It will open your throats,

You may preach without notes,

When infpir'd with full bumpers of Nottingham

ale.

Ye doctors, who more execution have done

With bolus, with powder, with potion and pill, Than hangman with halter, or foldier with gun, Than mifer with famine, or lawyer with quill;

1

To difpatch us the quicker

You forbid us malt liquor,

'Till our bodies grow thin, and our faces wax pale. Each knows, if he pleases,

What cures all diseases,

Is hearty full bumpers of Nottingham ale.

Ye lovers, who talk of your flames, darts, and daggers.

With Nottingham ale ply your mistress but hard; The girl that once tastes it will drink 'till she staggers,

And all your paft fuff'rings with kindness reward;

You may turn and twift her,

And do what you lift t'her,

You have found the right way with her heart to prevail ;

Let her take her glafs often,

There's nothing can foften

The heart of a woman like Nottingham ale.

SONG 17.

THE BANKS OF THE DEE.-Tune, LANGOLEE; With Additions by Mifs B-Y Bs.

"TWAS Summer, and foftly the breezes were

blowing.

And fweetly the nightingale fung from the tree, At the foot of a rock, where the river was flowing, I fat myself down on the banks of the Dee. Flow on lovely Dee, flow on thou sweet river; Thy banks pureft ftreams fhall be dear to me ever; For there I first gain'd the affection and favour

Of Sandy the glory and pride of the Dee.

But now he's gone from, me, and left me thus mourning,

To quell the proud rebels, for valiant is he; And, ah! there's no hope of his speedy returning, To wander again on the banks of the Dee.

He's gone, helpless youth! o'er the rude roaring billows;

The kindest and sweetest of all the gay fellows; And left me to ftray 'mongst the once loved willows, The lonlieft maid on the banks of the Dee.

But time and my pray'rs may perhaps yet reftore him; Bleft Peace may reftore my dear fhepherd to me: Andwhen he returns, with fuchcare I'll watcho'erhim,

He never fhall leave the fweet banks of the Dee. The Dee then fhall flow, all its beauties displaying; The lambs on its banks fhall again be feen playing; While I with my Sandy am carelessly straying,

And tafting again all the fweets of the Dec.

Thus fung the fair maid on the banks of the river,
And fweetly re-echo'd each neighbouring tree;
But, now all thefe hopes must evanish for ever,
Since Sandy fhall ne'er fee the banks of the Dee.
On a foreign fhore the fweet youth lay dying,
In a foreign grave his body's now lying ;
Whilft friends and acquaintance in Scotland are
crying

For Sandy, the glory and pride of the Dee.

Mishap on the hand by which he was wounded;
Mishap on the wars that call'd him away
From a circle of friends,by which he was furrounded,
Who mourn for dear Sandy the tedious day.

Oh! poor hapless maid, who mourns difcontented
The lofs of a lover fo juftly lamented;

By time, only time, can her grief be contented,

And all her dull bours become chearful and gay.

'Twas honour and bravery made him leave her mourning,

From unjuft rebellion his country to free; He left her, in hopes of his fpeedy returning, To wander again on the banks of the Dee: For this he difpis'd all dangers and perils ; 'Twas thus he efpous'd Britannia's quarrels, That when he came home he might crown her with laurels,

The happiest maid on the banks of the Dee.

But Fate had determin'd his fall to be glorious,

Though dreadful the thought must be unto me ; He fell, like brave WOLF, when the troops were victorious,

Sure each tender heart muft bewail the decree: Yet, though he is gone, the once faithful lover, And all our fine fchemes of true happiness over. No doubt he implored his pity and favour

For me he had left on the banks of the Dee.

SONG 18.

By a young Gentleman.-Tune, LANGOLEE.

MISS Betty's a girl of very good nature,
Her complexion fair, moft delightful to fee;
Her air's not affected. fhe's reg'lar each feature,
Which makes me the fonder to fing her to thee.
Hold on, my sweet mufe, without repining,
And fing up her praifes without ever whining;
And fix on her mind to be always inclining
To look on her fhepherd with mirth and with glee.

Her beauty, with all perfection in measure,

Does form a Diana moft pleafing to fee;
Her eyes they are bright, and in colour azure,
And the is the pride of all that her fee:
Her mind it is paft all human painting,
For pen or pencil they are both fainting;
So it is nonfenfe for you to be minting

To fing her praifes, fo charming is fhe.

Laft night when I faw her fhe was paffing from me,
But I would not let her go that way fo free;
I ftept up to her and asked her favour,

She granted, and made me as happy's could be:
When the fpake, O! I was ravifh'd,
And she told me myself not to flavish;
I faid unto her, I would always lavish
Her praifes in town as well as country.