And well I know 'twill be her pride,
To soothe each sorrow there;
Then take her, and may fleeting time,
Mark only Joy's increase,
And may your days glide sweetly on,
In happiness and peace.
In Derry down dale when I wanted a mate
I went with my daddy, a courting of Kate,
With my nosegay so fine, in my holy-day clothes,
My hands in my pockets a courting I goes.
The weather was cold, and my bosom was hot,
My heart in a gallop-my mare in a trot―
Now I was so bashful so loving withal,
My tongue stuck to my mouth, and I said
When I came to the house, I look'd bashful and grum,
The knocker I held 'twixt my finger and thumb,
Rap went the knocker, Kate show'd her chin,
She chuckled and buckled, I bow'd and went in.
Now I was as bashful as bashful could be,
And Kitty, poor soul, was as bashful as me;
So I laugh'd, and I grinn'd, and I let my hat fall,
Giggled, scratched my head, and said
If bashful was I, the more bashful the maid,
She simper'd and sigh'd,with her apron strings play'd;
The old folks impatient to have the thing done,
Agreed that my Kitty and I should be one.
So, then we young ones both nodded consent,
Then hand in hand to get married we went,
When we answered the parson, in voices so small,
You scarce could have heard us, say
But mark what a change in the course of a week,
My Kate left off blushing, I boldly could speak—
Could play with my Kitty, and laugh at a jest,
And Kate could talk, ay too, as well as the best.
And talk'd of past follies, we oft have declar'd
To encourage young folks, who at wedlock are scar'd,
For if to your aid some assurance you call,
You may kiss and get married, and it's
Can I again that Look recall.
Can I again that look recall,
Which once could make me die for thee?
No, no, the eye that burns on all,
Shall never more be priz'd by me.
Can I again that form caress,
Or on that lip in joy recline?
No, no-the lip that all may press
Shall never more be press'd by mine.
Come haste thee, come haste thee, my bonnie Swiss maid,
Take thy cloak, and to church let's away;
The plighted love, I claim so true,
For true's my love, sincere to you,
Then haste thee, come haste thee, my bonnie Swiss
Take thy cloak and to church let's away.
Am not I, am not I, then a happy Swiss maid?
Now bless'd with my own true love;
My shepherd swain, to welcome home,
And hail with joy each night's return,
Am not I, am not I, a happy Swiss maid,
Now bless'd with my own true love?
Now at eve, now at eve, see the happy Swiss maid,
In her cot, with contentment and peace,
There's nought disturbs, devoid of care,
Her rest is sweet, she knows no fear,
Then 'good night,' and 'good night,' goes the happy Swiss maid,
In her cot, to her slumbers in peace.
Behave yoursel' before Folk,
AIR-"Good morrow to your night-cap."
Behave yoursel' before folk,
Behave yoursel' before folk,
And dinna be sae rude to me,
As kiss me sae before folk.
It wadna gi'e me meikle pain,
Gin we were seen and heard by nane,
To tak' a kiss, or grant you ane;
But, gudesake! no before folk.
Behave yoursel' before folk,
Behave yoursel' before folk;
Whate'er you do, when out o' view,
Be cautious aye before folk.
Consider, lad, how folk will crack,
And what a great affair they'll mak'
O' naething but a simple smack,
That's gien or taen before folk.
Behave yoursel' before folk,
Behave yoursel' before folk;
Nor gi'e the tongue o' auld or young
Occasion to come o'er folk.
It's no through hatred o' a kiss,
That I sae plainly tell you this;
But, losh! I tak' it sair amiss
To be sae teas'd before folk.
Behave yoursel' before.folk,
Behave yoursel' before folk;
When we're our lane ye may tak' ane,
But fient a ane before folk.
I'm sure wi' you I've been as free
As ony modest lass should be;
But yet, it doesna do to see
Sic freedom used before folk.
Behave yoursel' before folk;
Behave yoursel' before folk,
I'll ne'er submit again to it-
So mind you that-before folk.
Ye tell me that my face is fair;
It may be sae-I dinna care-
But ne'er again gar't blush sae sair
As ye hae done before folk,
Behave yoursel' before folk,
Behave yoursel' before folk;
Nor heat my cheeks wi' your mad freaks,
But aye be douce before folk.
Ye tell me that my lips are sweet;
Sic tales, I doubt, are a' deceit ;
At ony rate, it's hardly meet
To prie their sweets before folk.
Behave yoursel' before folk,
Behave yoursel' before folk;
Gin that's the case, there's time and place, But surely not before folk.
But, gin ye really do insist
That I should suffer to be kiss'd,
Gae, get a license frae the priest,
And mak' me yours before folk.
Behave yoursel' before folk,
Behave yoursel' before folk;
And when we're ane, bath flesh and bane, Ye may tak' ten-before folk.
The Maid of Castile.
Oh! remember the time in La Mancha's shades,
When our moments so blissfully flew ;
When you call'd me the flow'r of Castilian maids, And I blush'd to be call'd so by you:
When I taught you to warble the gay Seguadille, And to dance to the light Castanet;
Oh, never, dear youth, let you roam where you will,
The delight of those moments forget.
They tell me, you lovers from Erin's green isle,
Ev'ry hour a new passion can feel;
And that soon in the light of some lovelier smile,
You'll forget the poor maid of Castile.
But they know not how brave in the battle you are,
Or they never could think you would rove;
For 'tis always the spirit most gallant in war,
That is fondest and truest in love!
The mild Segar,
Oh, leave the noisy, smoky scene,
The streets of glaring light,
And take a stroll to Turnham-green,
And we'll return at night.
Then as we watch the stages pass,
And hear their wheels afar;
Of grog we'll take a cheerful glass,
And smoke a mild segar.
I'll tell you how a maiden swooned,
And made a devilish din;
Her bottle fell upon the ground,
Was broke, and spill'd her gin.
I'll tell thee how a crowd drew nigh,
Who heard her screams afar;
And if my tale should prove too dry,
Why take a glass with your segar.
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