The little farthing rushlight,
Fal, lal, lal, lal.

The little farthing rushlight.

Then Sir Solomon he out of bed popt his toes,
And vastly he swore and very much did curse light;
Then up to the chimney Sir Solomon he goes,——
And roll'd about-

An old woman clothed in grey,

Whose daughter was charming and young,
And she was deluded away—

At the dead of the nigh when with whisky inspir'd,—
I jump'd upon land to my neck up in water,
Or I'll never more sing about—

An old woman, God bless her?

Who threw her leg over the dresser,
A ten-penny nail hitch'd in her tail,
And tore out-

Four-and-twenty barbers all on a row:
There was frizze, frizpowder, and pomatum,
Two ruffles and never a shirt ;

'Tis cursed hard times, your honours, but

I'd no more mind the times than a puff of dumpling dust,

But my wife,-Oh! she's the plague of my life;
For, last night, I caught her lock'd up with-

A flaxen-headed plough-boy, as simple as may be,—
But no matter for that,

For my trade comes as pat, They all come as pat as they can: So for shaving or tooth-drawing, Bleeding, cabbaging, or sawing,

Dicky Gossip, Dicky Gossip, is the man.

ENCORE! ENCORE! ENCORE

Sung by Mr. Dignum.

THRO' life's pursuit whate'er we start,
Whatever rank sustain,

We wish, if well we play our part,
To play it o'er again:

The grave, the gay, the young, the old,
Ere yet the scene be o'er,
Rejoice, when by their country told
To act that scene encore!
Greatly done-nobly won-
Honour's guide-nation's pride-
Bravely storm'd-well perform'd,
Encore, encore, encore!

Still, tho' with humbler talents grac'd,
Hope animates our cause,
For fancy'd wit, or shape, or taste,
We smirk, and ask applause:

The maid and mistress-clown and fop,
Your fav'ring smiles implore,

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Who strum the harp, or twirl the mop,
All seek that word encore!

T

What a maid who's afraid!

Finger, voice-take your choice!
Flounces, frills-shaves and trills;
Encore, encore, encore !

19

The brown, the fair, the squab, the lank,

Their sev'ral charms expose, Whether a dumplin, or a plank, All move as fashion goes;

L

Flat pan-cake Miss, in close tight bound,、
Her flatness mark the more;

And Miss, not quite so long as round,
A breast-work adds-encore !

What a taste-such a waist!
Each in wig-how they jig

O'er the ground-round and sound-
Encore, encore, encore !

Bobby the crop, the buck and the beau,
Scorns science, learning, pelf-
What does he love, then?-ladies?-no,
He only loves himself;

Tho' free from gold, his manners prove
He has some brass in store,

And when you praise what most he loves,
He echoes your encore!

"Tis in truth-such a youth

With his dock-stock and block-
How he walks-how he talks-
Encore, encore, encore !

Some good we can't enjoy too long
Could that come o'er again;
I mean (and you'll approve my song)

Our Sov'reign's virtuous reign:
Me!-whose glad life for you
is spent,

To rouse exertion more;

Perhaps with these poor strains content,

You'll kindly say encore!

That's the thing-bless the King

Whilst you live-would

you thrive

Night and day-roar away-
Encore, encore, encore!

"TWAS ON A DISMAL NIGHT.

Sung by Mr. Dowton.

"TWAS on a dismal night
When scarce a star gave light,
And that hail came ratling down
With a peppering on my crown,

That I resolv'd upon a matter:
This matter was of love,
And I as fierce as Jove;
my charmer was lock'd up
At a castle's very top

But

Yet I had fix'd to be at her.

A whistle then was mine,
My fair one knew the sign,
And directly to my hopes
Threw a ladder down of ropes,

When I mount without delay, Sir:
And when I got on high,

And did my charmer spy,

I took her in my arm,

And descended without harm,

And carried off-ouray, Sir!

NATTY SAM.

A TINKER I ́am, my name's Natty Sam,
From morn to night I trudge it;
So low is my fate, my pers'nal estate,
Lies all within my budget.

CHORUS.

Work for the tinker, ho! good wives,

They are lads of mettle;

"Twere well if you could mend your lives,

As I can mend a kettle.

The man of war, the man of the bar,
Physicians, priests, freethinkers,
That rove up and down great London town,
What are they all? but tinkers.
Work for the tinker, &c.

Those among the great, who tinker the state,
And badger the minority;

Pray what's the end of their work, my friend?
But to rivet a good majority.
Work for the tinker, &c.

This mends his name, that cobbles his fame,
That tinkers his reputation;

And thus, had I time, I could prove in my rhyme
Jolly tinkers are all the nation.
Work for the tinker, &c.-

THE LASS OF RICHMOND HILL.

ON Richmond Hill there lives a lass,
More bright the
than May-day morn:
Whose charms all other maids surpass,

A rose without a thorn.

CHORUS.

This lass so neat, with smiles so sweet,
Has won my right good will;
I'd crowns resign to call her mine,
Sweet lass of Richmond Hill.

Ye zephyrs gay that fan the air,
And wanton thro' the grove;
O whisper to my charming fair-
I die for her in love.

This lass so neat, &c.

I