Old Ballads | Page 4

her brown bread, And merrily
turn'd up the grass. Bonnie Jocky, blythe and free, Won her heart right
merrily: Yet still she blush'd, and frowning cried, "No, no, it will not do;
I canna, canna, wonna, wonna, manna buckle to."
But when he vow'd he would make her his bride, Though his flocks and
herds were not few, She gave him her hand, and a kiss beside, And
vow'd she'd for ever be true. Bonnie Jocky, blythe and free, Won her
heart right merrily: At church she no more frowning cried, "No, no, it

will not do; I canna, canna, wonna, wonna, manna buckle to."
_Anon._

THE NIGHT-PIECE TO JULIA.
Her eyes the glow-worm lend thee, The shooting stars attend thee; And
the elves also, Whose little eyes glow, Like the sparks of fire, befriend
thee.
No Will-o'-th'-Wisp mislight thee, Nor snake or slow-worm bite thee;
But on, on thy way, Not making a stay, Since ghost there's none to
affright thee.
Let not the dark thee cumber; What though the moon does slumber?
The stars of the night Will lend thee their light, Like tapers clear,
without number.
Then, Julia, let me woo thee, Thus, thus to come unto me; And when I
shall meet Thy silv'ry feet, My soul I'll pour into thee.
Herrick.

TOM BOWLING.
Here, a sheer hulk, lies poor Tom Bowling, The darling of our crew;
No more he'll hear the tempest howling, For death has broach'd him to.
His form was of the manliest beauty, His heart was kind and soft;
Faithful below he did his duty. But now he's gone aloft.
Tom never from his word departed, His virtues were so rare; His
friends were many and true-hearted, His Poll was kind and fair: And
then he'd sing so blithe and jolly; Ah, many's the time and oft! But
mirth is turn'd to melancholy, For Tom is gone aloft.
Yet shall poor Tom find pleasant weather, When He who all commands,
Shall give, to call life's crew together, The word to pipe all hands. Thus
Death, who kings and tars dispatches, In vain Tom's life has doff'd; For
though his body's under hatches, His soul is gone aloft.
_Charles Dibdin._

MY LOVE IS LIKE THE RED RED ROSE.
My love is like the red red rose That's newly sprung in June; My love is
like the melody That's sweetly played in tune.

As fair art thou, my bonnie lass, So deep in love am I; And I will love
thee still, my dear, Till a' the seas gang dry.
Till a' the seas gang dry, my dear, And the rocks melt wi' the sun; And I
will love thee still, my dear, While the sands of life shall run.
But, fare thee weel, my only love, And fare thee weel awhile; And I
will come again, my dear, Though 'twere ten thousand mile.
Burns.

WIDOW MALONE.
Did you hear of the Widow Malone, Ohone! Who lived in the town of
Athlone! Ohone! Oh, she melted the hearts Of the swains in them parts,
So lovely the Widow Malone, Ohone! So lovely the Widow Malone.
Of lovers she had a full score, Or more, And fortunes they all had
galore, In store; From the minister down To the clerk of the crown, All
were courting the Widow Malone, Ohone! All were courting the
Widow Malone.
But so modest was Mistress Malone, 'Twas known, That no one could
see her alone, Ohone! Let them ogle and sigh, They could ne'er catch
her eye, So bashful the Widow Malone, Ohone! So bashful the Widow
Malone.
Till one Mister O'Brien, from Clare,-- How quare! It's little for blushing
they care Down there, Put his arm round her waist-- Gave ten kisses at
laste-- "Oh," says he, "you're my Molly Malone, My own!" "Oh," says
he, "you're my Molly Malone."
And the widow they all thought so shy, My eye! Ne'er thought of a
simper or sigh, For why? But "Lucius," says she, "Since you've now
made so free, You may marry your Mary Malone, Ohone! You may
marry your Mary Malone."
There's a moral contained in my song, Not wrong, And one comfort, it's
not very long, But strong,-- If for widows you die, Learn to kiss, not to
sigh, For they're all like sweet Mistress Malone, Ohone! Oh, they're all
like sweet Mistress Malone.
Charles Lever.

THE JOLLY YOUNG WATERMAN.

And did you ne'er hear of a jolly young waterman, Who at Blackfriars
Bridge used for to ply? And he feathered his oars with such skill and
dexterity, Winning each heart and delighting each eye. He look'd so
neat, and he row'd so steadily, The maidens all flock'd in his boat so
readily; And he eyed the young rogues with so charming an air,