SONG S.

Calcavelle.

I.

THE gods at a feaft, which old Janus prepar'd,
(For Europe at peace, he his temple had barr'd)

The dinner being done, the table was spread
With wines of each vintage, with white and with red.
Derry down.

II.

Firft Jove, as was proper, laid hold of the glafs,
And a bumper he drank, not knowing what 'twas;
But the moment he swallow'd, by Styx he declar'd,
That wine had a smack, that his vitals had chear'd.
Derry down.

III.

The name of the wine Jove demanded in hafte,
And why it fo long had been kept from his tafte;
His Nectar was dish-wash, to that liquor divine,
For ne'er till that hour, had he tafted true wine.

IV.

Derry down.

Then old Janus arofe, and bowing reply'd,
I'm charm'd, that I first did this liquor provide.
In heaven its name is the Wine Nonpareil,
But by mortals its call'd, the fam'd Calcavelle.

Derry down.
V.

V.

Calcavelle, faid Great Jove, but he drank e'er he spoke,
As I fhall do now, by the way of a joke;

Then ordered Ganymede, his cellars to fill,
For nothing he'd drink, but the fam'd Calcavelle.

VI.

!

Derry down.

A boon cry'd old Janus, thus lowly I bend,
One pipe of this wine, to present to a friend.
When I tell you for whom, the favour you'll yield.
It is for the Crowner of merry Wakefield.

VII.

Derry downt

That I will, aid Great Jove, and straitway I'll send
To an honeft good mortal, and always my friend;
Ten pipes to one Charnock I yearly will grant,
That the Crowner may have what liquor he'll want.
Derry down.

VIII.

Since the gods, my good friends, approve of this liquor,
Let the toaft never ftand, push the bumper round quicker.
When this bottle is out, I with pleasure can tell,
That another we'll have, of the fam'd Calcavelle.
Derry down.

*The Author is Coroner.

The Poft - Horn.

I.

ON Pegafus mounted, fee the Poft-mafter comes,

Let horns now be founded, 'ftead of trumpets and

drums;

Tho' trumpets and drums may ferve for a host,
The horn is the mufic, that always goes post!

II..

My horn is fuperior to hautboys and flutes,

With my horn, I like Orpheus, can charm all the brutes, When my tan-tivy founds, it plainly appears,

The cow cocks her tail, the afs pricks his ears.

III.

Derry down.

The pigs grunt with pleasure, the horse neighs aloud,
The fheep quite transported gather into a crowd;
The bull fhews his joy, by his bellowing notes,
And the hounds in full chorus, all ope their fhrill throats.

IV.

Derry down.

No mufic fo ancient, therefore none so good,

They had horns in great plenty, before Noah's flood;
And down from the deluge, all hift'ry informs,

That kings, lords and commons, have all blown their horns.

V.

Derry down.

Our wives are call'd CONSORTS; and why? you will ask.
To anfwer that queftion's a difficult task ;---

I humbly conceive 'tis because they can bring
Us horns if they pleafe, and a tongue that can fing.

VI.

Derry down.

Some husbands contented, as I have been told,

With wearing of horns, if tipped with gold;
Whilst others run mad, when they find out their wives,
Like horn-giggs they whip them each day of their lives.

Derry down.

VII. In

VII.

In George the Third's reign, full many a fair spouse, With a pair of these antlers, has adorn'd her love's brows, To fulfill the scripture, the sweet creature labours

To exalt her dear's horns, 'bove that of her neighbours.

VIII.

Derry down.

A comb's made of horn, and therefore 'tis faid
When a man is henpeck'd, his wife combs his head;
And when the grey mare's better horfe of the two,
The man runs horn-mad---fo gets rid of his shrew.
Derry down.

IX.

As a fortified town is better by far,

Than a place that's unarm'd to keep off the war,
So the head of a man, that is guarded with horns,
The batt'ries of pert-fneering bachelors scorns.

X.

An enemy goes to attack a strong town,
Gibraltar we'll fay, it is high in renown;

Derry down.

Brave Elliot to keep it from Spaniards like Turks,
The married men fends to guard the horn-works.

XI.

Derry down.

As an emblem of plenty, Pomona is drawn
With her Cornu-copia---in English a horn---
Which first gave the hint, to fome toper, I think,
To quaff out of horn, to have plenty of drink.

The Happy Swain.

I.

WITH the lark, when I rife, and thro' the grove ftray

Each warbler's fweet note that I hear;

The fun juft appearing to open the day!

Are emblems of Chloe my fair!

II.

The meadows in May, with flowers bespread,
Whole odours perfume the mild air!

All bloffoms and fhrubs, when fragrance they shed!
Are emblems of Chloe my fair!

III.

The brifk lambs in the field, when sporting they play, (Whofe looks figns of innocence are)

The breath of the cow, and scent of new hay,
Are emblems of Chloe my fair!

IV.

Fellow mortals, I grieve amidst all my joy,

That heaven to soften your care,

Has not fent each a nymph, that never can cloy,
Like Chloe, dear Chloe my fair!

Nelly Green.

I.

HOW fwiftly flew the golden hours,

On the downy wings of love,
More fragrant than the breath of flow'rs
From the balmy orange-grove!

But O! how chang'd! the blissful fcene,
Since I have loft my Nelly Green!

II. The