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Sung in the WATERMAN. AND
ND did you not hear of a jolly young water.
man, Who at Blackfriars Bridge used for to ply ; And he feather'd his oars with such skill and dex
terity, Winning each heart and delighting each eye: He looked fo neat, and rowed fo steadily, The maidens all flock'd in his boat fo readily, And he eyed the young rouges with so charming
an air, That this Waterman ne'er was in want of a fare.
What Sghts of fine folks he oft row'd in his wherry:
'Twas clean'd out so nice, and painted with all; He was always first oars when the fine city ladies,
In a party to Ranelagh went or Vauxhall. And oftentimes would they be giggling and leering' But 'twas all one to Tom, their gibing and geering, For loving, or liking, he little did care, For this Waterman ne'er was in want of a fare.
And yet but to see how ftrangely things happen;
As he row'd along thinking of nothing at all, He was ply'd by a damsel so lovely and charming,
That she smiled, and so ftraitway in love he did
And would this young damsel but banish his forrow,
The PARSON. Push about the brisk glass, 1 proclaim him an
als, Who at cares of this world wou'd repine ; 'Twas our sorrows to drown, and dispel Fortune's
frown, That Jove sent us, Joye fent us, the juice of the
vine. "Tis this in all feats the true interest protects,
And enlivens the lump of our clayo; The parsons looks teach, tho' against it they preach, Then believe them, believe them, who pleases, I
'Tis not long ago, that a Vicar I know,
Whose name 't were ungodly to tell, Who o'er bottle and bowl sat with many good soul, Full of glee, till ding dong, till ding dong, went
the bell :
Then, having a hic-cup, took the chair with a
I must go, else the church will complain; But, friends, don't think me rude, I swear by my
priesthood, I'll but preach, and be with you, be with you
The parfon went straight, tho'he stagger'd in gait,
With his fermon in mem'ry's large cheft ; To the pulpit he rose, but soon fell, in a dose,
And cries, Excellent, excellent wine, I proteit. The whole congregation, in strange confternation,
Left the church, with a ligh at the cause; But the clerk, more devout, cries, Sir, they're all
out ; Then fill 'em, then fill 'em again, my brave boys.
In law 'twas design’d, Justice ftill hould be blind;
Yet she'll squint if self-int'rest do call; And I'm certain I cou'd, o'er a hogshead that's good. Bribe the council, the council, judge, jury, and
all. If to drink be a fault, for fo we're all taught,
Old Noah could tipple, they say ; And we gather from hence, all mortals of fenfe,
Should be sons of old Noah, old Noah: Huzza!
Sing their successful loves,
And mulick fills the groves.
But my lov'd song is then the broom
So fair on Cowden-knows;
Elsewhere there never grows.
There Colin tun'd his oaten reed,
And won my yielding heart ;
Could play with half such heart.
He fung of Tay, of Forth, and Clyde,
The hills and dales all round,
Oh! how I bless'd the found.
Yet more delightful is the broom
So fair on Cowden-knows ;
Elsewhere there never grows.
Not Tiviot braes, so green
gay, May with this broom compare ; Not Yarrow banks in flow'ry May,
Nor the bush aboon Traquair.
More pleasing far are Cowden-knows,
My peaceful happy home,
At e'en among the broom.
Ye pow'rs, that haunt the woods and plains
Where I'weed and Tiviot flows, Convey me to the best of swains,
And my lov'd Cowden-knows.
S on a sun shine summer's day
Upon its flow'ry banks I sat,
All in the self-Same shady grove