^ M >^ - ^ ^"" c ^S^m^ ^^' UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA AT LOS ANGELES />i"^ THE APOLLO, A COLLECTION OF THE MOST {Popular £on00>Uecttatton0> Bun^f GLEES, CHORUSES, &c, &c. Intermixed with MANY ORIGINALS, AND SOME OF THE MOST FAVORITE OF DIBDIN, HUDSON, W. H. FREEMAN, &C. Embellished with five Full-le7igth Portraits, engraved, m Steel, and Fifteen Humorous JTood Engravings, vol.. I. LONDON: PRINTED AND PUBLISHED BY H. AFLiSS, ADDLE STREET, WOOD STREET, CHEaPSIDE. .830. WIS t) A ^-4 1 c,J ii)tf face. ON our arrival at the conclusion of the first ^ volume of our work, we feel it a duty incum- ^ bent on ourselves to address our friends and ^^^ the public at large in terms of congratulation ; we can but look round and view with pride and satisfaction the mighty distance at which we have left our competitors, conceiving that '^ we may boldly challenge the world at large to produce a Volume of Songs so well selected, so neatly printed, so splendidly embellished, and in fact altogether in every department so beautifully unique and complete. We may be thought to possess, and accused of displaying, a great share of egotism in making this assertion, but at such a charge we shall merely smile ; the unprecedented and almost incredible sale of the Work, and unqualified praise bestowed upon it, being a sufficient test to bear us out in our declaration. To our correspondents, who immediately upon the appearance of our work once more rallied. round us and continued A*2 iv PREFACE. lo present us vvilh many very excellent original articles, and by so doin"^ have enabled us in originality (as we have done in every other de- partment,) far to outstrip our contemporaries, we feel most peculiarly nnd gratefully obliged, and accordingly place a just value upon their talented support. 'Tis true, from some of those whose productions we have been obliged to reject, we have received our share of scurrility and condemnation. But this we regard not, we will fearlessly risk and endure all their vitu- perative epistles, rather than succumb to one ol them; and, by so doing, make our work a mere amalgamation of flimsy rhyme and jingling nonsense. Let them snarl if they please, we are resolved to act upon our own judgment, and stand "ourself alone," so long as we find the public continue its indulgence and support. Returning general thanks for the patronage we have received, and trusting by a continuance of indefatigable exertion to retain it, we subscribe ourselves greatly obliged. The Publishers. INDEX TO VOLUME I. A conversation between Gog and Magog .... 44 A cure for a scolding wife 252 Ah ! tell me, love .... 3 Alice Gray 15t All the world are puffing . 341 Alterations and Additions 93 American Manners .... 25 An' maun we part . . . .^226 As miiher an' 1 67 Assembly Ball 277 Auld Raven 131 Banner of Blue 43 Eecause 'tis in the papers . 87 Behold, in his soft expres- sive face 186 Behold me, sung Hassan .294 Benjamin Bowbell . . . 347 Beware! beware! . . . .200 Bill Bottle 101 BillyGouse and Sammy Friz 97 Billy O'Rooke 175 Billy Taylor 228 Birdies whistling on the spray 174 Black-eyed Sukey .... 256 Black-ejed Susan .... 6 Bonny breast-knots .... 154 Bonnie Scotland, I adore thee Vi2 Bound 'prentice to acoast- ing ship 19 Brien O'Lyn in London . . 27 Bright Phoebus 79 Brown Cuckoo 321 Buy a broom , 179 Buy my hearis • 26T Cash T8 Caich 288 Cavrttina 2T6 Chapter of Accidents . . . 152 Christinas Eve ...... 2i4 Churchwarden's Dinner . 159 Clerkenwell Ball 33T Come to thy lattice . . . 162 Comical Fancies 123 Common sense is all non- sense 60 Corporal Jenkins 71 Court of Apollo 68 Crosses and Losses .... 58 Cry of the hounds .... 189 Cupid and Psyche .... 152 Cupid Fishing 336 Cupid is the conqueror . 77 Darby and Ruth 190 Dashing White Serjeant . 257 Dear lady, your eyes . . . 13t> Death and the Devil . . . i:i3 Death of Charley . , . . 24J Dennis M'Caster .... 180 Dialogue between the Dra- gon and Grasshopper . 148 NDEX TO VOL. 1, Devil and Waterman ... 198 Doctor Larrup 228 Dolly Day 158 Dniikiiig and kissing. . .219 Farewell, if ever fondest 201 1 are well, my trim-buill wherry 40 fatal loves ofTom Shuttle and Blousaliiida . . , 2(>0 Female V(jlunteer .... 320 Fill the cup high 33 Fire, fire, tire I 333 Firm as oak 92 Fog and Rain 41 For hark, hound and horn 242 Four feet high 346 For thee I left the tented plain 211 Fresh blows the gale . . . 236 From great Londonderry . 144 Fryiiig-panana 312 Gaily sounds the Castanet 279 Galligantns 224 Great Bashaw and his Harem 169 Had I a heart 304 Haul away, yeu ho, boys . 302 Hey! dance to the fiddle 147 Humours of a .Summoning Court 193 Humphrey Duggins . . , 265 Idiot Boy 303 I'll lo'e thee ever 213 I'll never marry a Charley 200 I'm a good little wife . . 211 Tndostan girl 223 In vain, dear friends . . . 4S Irish ride 24 1 It's a way I've learnt ... 7fi I've had a pint of sherry . fl6 I was ."leeping 208 I would not be a butterfly 12 Jackdaws 23u Jack Mizen . . • lOC Jenny Lee and Mr. G. . . 90 Jolly mortals, fill 2bs Kilkenny boy 212 Ladies bower 238 Land which no mortal may know 253 L5 poor Sadi M'j Push the gros: ahont . . . i35 Queen of Otalieite . 217 ■Retarii, O, nij love . . 3S9 Remarkable> 258 Reminiscences of London- Bridge 2T1 ■Revenue ! he crie« ... 95 Rigs of Knuckledown-Fair so Ritornella i>s4 Roses, Sir 240 Rosina, my dearest . . . . loi Ran him tlirough .... 192 Sailor's Consolation . . . 200 Sailor's Tear 260 Sammy Suckling's Misfor- tunes 73 San Dominco Billy .... 236 Sapling Oak . 107 Savourneen Deelish . . . 23s Scotch Parodv Medley . .306 Sexton aad Sally Greaves 155 Sewing up of Timothy Stitch'em 313 She snni:— but afraid ... 99 She well knew why . . 190 Since I've been in the army 305 Since thou to me hast cruel been 163 Sinivating Beer-man . . . 173 Smile and Sigh 325 Soldier's Tear 197 So nianv changes 104 Something 26S Spoutmg Autliors 202 Spring and the morning . 86 Storm 171 Strictest Propriety .... 145 Tell me where is fancy bred 264 Theatrical Toast . . . . . lii The A^e of Morality ... 33 The bells, at eve . . . , .297 The boatswain calls . . . 273 The butterfly was a gen- tleman 113 The Charlies in danger . . 63 Tlie Divorce 84 The Float . ]4 The Grand Opera Singer . 49 The heart of a friend . . . 344 The heart where love is beating 247 The Irish Hi-torian ... 23 The Iron Age ....... 1 12 The Lammie ....... 61 The Landing uf Royal Charlie 59 The Levee 309 The light Jews' harp . . . 125 The Maiden's Farewell , . 261 The Mariner's Compass . 251 The Maypole 12 The Minstrel Boy .... ss The Mock Italian Song. . se The Mock Monarch . . . . sg Tiie Moon is up 46 The Kew London Cries. . 47 The Omnibus i3g The rose which blooms . . 27 The Seven A^es 34^ The Shovel and Broom . . 250 The Sicnor and Sukey . . 36 The Tea Party 4 The Tear sn The Thorn 25R The Troubadour ..... 103 The Trumpeter 31 The Two Sailors isfi The White Rose 90 The Widow Wagtail ... g The Wife . ......... 3.'?'2 The wolf is nut . , 75 The women, God bless 'em 3o8 Then, love, falls the tear . 22 ■'his bloomiiisr rose .... 3i6 Three Jollv Pigeons . . . 121 Till deatli. dear jiiaid . , 105 Timothy Fubbs 274 .Timothy Stnbbins .... 52 Tom Snip 167 Town V. Country 125 Transmogrification 1 . . . 220 INDEX TO VOL. I. Unfinished Job 209 Warrior's Dream . . . . 64 Wesliall never see liis Jike Hi:uin 30 What a \v«)iiderful place i8 Londoi 291 WhtH Britain o'er the louiniiig main .... 159 Wlieii forced to part ... 24 When the trump of fame . 18 When Vulcan forged ... S3 Which is the man .... 6 Whirligigs of War . . . . n Whistle and I'll come to thee, my lad 2C William and Susai 2o William lell 6 Will Watch,the old Charlie S8 Will leave the world ... 5 With his hat drawn o'er his brow SO Yes! from Mie -Id ... 6! TH E A POLLO. " We both went ioto Tbomiison'g then, and had a glass a-piece. The people still were grinning all, to see her clothes so dirty." MRS. MONDAY. (T. Hudson.) One Sunday T went out,and as I .walk'd up Holborn-bill (I like to be particular)the streets were very muddy; Wbeo. jast about tbe balf-way up, quite sbock'd, I stood stock still — A lady slipp'd down flop before me, fat and plump and ruddy ; Sbe was in the kennel, sprawling. To me for assistance callincr ; Quickly I was pulling, bauling, SVip did wisb to shun day. The mud had spoilt her Sunday dressing; " Dear !" said she, " 'tis quite distressing — Lawk ! I'm a pretty mess in : Look," said Mrs. Monday. 1. B j2 THE APOLLO. As soon as slie recover'd, she return'd her (hanks so free, And in my ears, no vofce was e'er so sweet, though slie did stumble; She said that when she started she was going out to tea. But stopp'd by this unfortunate and sad unlucky tumble. Mobs of people now surrounded ; She and me were both confounded; Low-lived jokes and jeers abounded. Though it was a Sunday. Heeding not their taunts and titters, I ask'd her if my taste would fit hers — Would slie have tome brandy-bitters ! "1 will," said Mrs. Monday. We both went into Thompson's then, and had a glass a-piece. The peple still were grinning all, to see her clothes so dirty; Her face with perspiration look'd as it were dipp'd in grease ; Her age was, I suppose, about two or three and thirty ; Her face look'd just like one that's muddled ; Clothes on were completely huddled. All at once she got quite fuddled : Shocking for a Sunday. Thank'd me for my being so handy ; Declared that I was quite the dandy. Drank three glasses more of brandy ; Dreadful ! Mrs. Monday. Well, what was I to do? — egad, I could not get away : She stuck to me as tight as wax, and liquor drank the faster : THE APOLLO. 3 And every glass she swallow'd down, sbe call'd on rae to pay, And then compell'd to see her home safe out of her disaster; Through the streets by jeers saluted. Mob at every step recruited, While they halloo'd^ Jaugh'd, and hooted ; Shocking! for a Sunday. Every step made mis'ry double. Took her home through every bubble. And got, for all my care and trouble. Well bang'd by xMr. Monday. AH ! TELL ME, LOVE. Stntg by Mr. Sapio, in the " Robber's Bride." RECITATIVE. Ah! tell me. Love, what makes thee deceiving? Or reason, sure, ray mind thou art bereaving — Ihe peace I once could boast, this heart is leavings The pride of Glory charms no more. The martial throb which rose at Honor's call — Love chains restrain them all. Yet could [ now forego my passion. Or lightly disperse Love's spell, regaining liberty. Ah I should not I my fetters crave. And wish myself again a slave. POLONAISE. Bright as the cup with roses braided, Where Love dissolves his pearl of bliss ; But 'neath those flow'rs ott thorns are shaded. And anguish pays the truest kiss. Love's altar-flame fiercely burning. In mad despair now oft we fly — Still ever, like the rnolh. returning, Bachanled in its blaze to die. b2 4 THE APOLLO. THE TEA I»ARTV. An Original A'ojig, writ ten by P. T. Ail — A health, bonny Scotland, \o thee. At a house off the stones the bewitching Miss Jones, W'lu) vas ill of the fiddle diuu dee, Invited Mis.^ l\o.se with her little pug nose. And a good many others to tea : There was pretty i\li?s Brown and her elegant frown. With iauguage correct as in print, And ancient Miss Knight and her oculars bright. Despite of a bit of a squint. Spoken.] Well, Miss Jones, it quite delights lue to see you look so icell. Poor thing 1 I wish 1 could return the compliment, she's nearly blind. How are you. Miss West? Lauks, I purtest you are wet threugh. Why, yes, ma'am ! 1 went ten minutes out ot my way, to a confectioner's^ to enquire if um- brellas vitre '■'■lent on hire,'''' and they told me to go hujher on — so I got wet, but \ don't niiud it, for I called in at the Goat and Compasses, and had a glass of peppermint, and a half-pennyworth of penny- winkles to take the chill off the rain. Ha, Miss North, your humble! — Molly, a chair ! Miss West, I avow )ou II calcli cold in thi se wet things. Do let me send you down to the kitchen tire. VN'hat ! Mi.-s l-iest, and f'ou'pey, her poodle, too. Well, I declare I'm tiL'o honoured. Ponipey, make your bow wow to the company. (Do(j barks.) O, the sweet crea- ture, bow uas he (aught to be so polite? Pieally, ma'am, 1 can't fell, but, as he is very sagacious, it strikes me he took it naturally. I was afraid, during bis late temporary illness, his elegant voice might lose its lone, and so I sent to the chemi'sl's lor a pennyworth of hark. O, bless your iieart ! you are a kind mama ! What, Miss Digg.s, I hope you are well ? 'J'hank yoa, nta'am, but 1 couldn't come belo, e^ THE APOLLO. 5 for our cat has laid-iu and I staid Ijehind to point out the Tommies to our Sally. Now, Molly, brings the urn. Well, I declare, why this is throwing cold water on it! It doesn't boil, INlolly I O, yes, ma'am! don't you hear it hiss ? Hiss, child! it is quite a tacit-urn. I've a great mind to discharge you. O, my dear ma'am, do forgive this time, for our sakes ! Do be mollified. Well, I will, ladies, I will ! Molly, go into your kitchen, and polish the coal scuttle till I can see my face in it, or I'll break every bone in your skin ; you see, for your sakes, how indidcjent I am, ladies. Dear me, what a smell. The horrid stench! Where is it? 1 hope you don't use Thames water. Miss Jones ? No, ma'am, nothing but Eau de Cologne, I assure you. Bless my life ! How nasty ! Burn some feathers! What can it h^'^ Where's Pompey? Pompey, indeed! F'd ibank you. Miss Best, next time you bring your poodle, to teach him to prefer some other coloar to my mazariue blue. Puddle Dock, er Chelsea Water-works were nothing to it, ma'am I So here's to Miss Jones, fur there's every one owns. There's nought like her parties to tea. Some people agree that the best is Bohea, Some Hyson prefer, and again Souchong, green and black are the sherries and sack. That fuddles the old woman's brain ! Some chatter and prate in a. language elate, Some sit as a canister dumb ; Some lump sugar eat, aye and think it as sweet As little boys sucking their thumb. Spoken.] Miss Jones, how is your tea? Thank you, it suits me to the T. I likes my tea, for ray tea likes me. Have you heard the news? they do say that ^»lr. Brown is about to connubialize with Miss Black. O, I can't believe it! What can he see in such a dowdy ? 1 suppose he is a man of no property B 3 6 THE APOLLO. though. There I beg jour pardon, luu'am, I am sure any one to marry Miss Hrown must be a man of a thousand. Ha, lia ! very good, Miss Sprlggs. Say it again. By the bye, ladies, did you hear Miss Wlggin'a last? Why, she hasn't got any family, has she? Dear me, how distressing, tliose deaf ladies ruin every one's character. Well, Miss W ob- served of Vtr friend, Mrs. II — 's weekly tea parties, that ever since her silver spoons had been removed to the count tjj-huuse, her tea had been very tveahly, in- deed. Pray, Miss Jones, what tea do you use? Eleven shilling black, ma'am. For, my part, I prefer the teal use. Pray, ma'am, \\ hat is that? Gun- powder, ma'am ! 1 hate gunpowder, it blows one up. 1 don't wonder at that, Miss B. because your head is so light. Id have you take notice, ma'am, my hair is not carrotty, but auburn. Auburn or any other burn, child ! trust me, it will never set a man's heart on fire. How do you know? I should be sorry for my character to be as black as some people's wigs. O, for shame, ladies ! for shame ! no quarrelling. Miss Jones, you have certainly mixed the tea too strong, it has got in the young ladies' heads. Ladies, I am aggrieved at your conduct. 1 am sure any lady so behaving is no gentleman. Well, I declare, 1 never saw such liberties in all my life. Miss Best, I really must request the next time you bring your poodle, you'll tie a pocket handkerchief to his tail, for the nasty beast has just wiped his nose upon my muffin. Then, health, &c. BLACK-EYED SUSAN. All in the Downs the fleet was moor'd. The streamers waving in the wind. When black-eyed Susan ranie on board. Oh! where shall I my true-love find? Tell me, ye jovial sailors, tell me (rue. If my sweet William sails among your crew? THE APOLLO. William, who liii^h upon tLe yard, R.ock'cl with the biilows to and fro. Soon as her well known \oice he heard. He sigh'd and cast his eyes- below : Tlie cord slides swiftly through his glowing hands, And quick as lightning on the deck he stands. So the sweet lark, high poised in air. Shuts cli)se his pinions to his breast, (If chance his mate's shrill call he hear) And drops at once into her nest: The noblest captain in the British fleet, Might envy William's lips those kisses sweet. O, Susan, Susan, lovely dear I My vows shall ever true remain ; Let me kiss off that falling tear, W^e only part to meet again : - Change as ye list, ye winds, my heart shall be The faithful compass that still points to thee. Believe not what the landsmen say, Who tempt with doubts thy constant mind ; They'll tell thee, sailors, when away, In ev'ry port a mistress find; Yes, yes, believe them when they tell thee so. For thou art present wheresoe'er I go. If to far India's coast we sail. Thy eyes are seen in diamonds bright. Thy breath in Afric's spicy gale. Thy skin is ivory so white ; Thus er'ry beauteous objeet that I view. Wakes in my soul some charm of lovely Sue. Though battle calls me from thy arms. Let not my pretty Susan mourn ; Though cannons roar, yet safe from harms, William shall to his dear return ; Love turns aside the balls that round me fly, Lest precious tears should drop from Susan's eye. 8 THE APOLLO. The boatswain oiive the Jreadtul word. The sails tlieir swelling; bosoras spread, No longer must she stay on board ; They kiss'd — ?he si^lrd— lie hiinj^ his head Her less'ning boat unwillinir rows to land, Adieu, she cried, and waved lier lily hantl. THE WIDOW WAGTAIL. (T. Hudson.) Tunt—Mr. Simpkin. The Widow Wagtail's charms and bloom, by Father Time had Hed, The colt's tooth was the only tooth which stuck fast in her head : Though seventy-two, the fire of love seera'd in her to be latent. For husbands every now and then, she got as if by patent. Ful de rol, &c. Four husbands she had had, 'tis true — the first an undertaker. The second was a butcher stout — the third a tough Scotch baker ; The fourth a jolly beefeater, so very tall and stout, But she contrived to see all in their graves while she stood out. Fol de rol, &c. She did not grieve so very much, as Providence so will'd 'em. But when they died the neighbours plainly said 'twas she that kill'd 'em : Whether so or not; 'lis plain, to outlive them she made shift, And having buried all tke fou: — she lougd to have a fifth. Fol de rol, &c. IHE APOLLO. 9 .SLe went to church to get one there, bedeck'd with silks and satins, A little hmnpj cock-eyed maid behind her, with her pattens ; She strutted like a turkey-cock so grand to catch the men, While the little maid behind her was more like a bantam heu. Fol de rol, &c. The Parson was a bachelor — but felt in love misgir- Like many other parsons he could not live by his li\ing; Her husbands he had known, and he was young enough lor her son. He felt inclined to wed her purse — bat was afraid of her person. Fol de rol, &;c. The Clerk, (a small man, four-feet-two, his shoulders angled square,) Look'd from his book to eye her flesh, though he had none to spare ; Said he, "she has a heavy purse, which much I do desire. But she'd send me to Davy soon, for she's as strong as Goliah." Fol de rol, &c. The Organist was blind, poor soul ! but a very clever player : Although of sight he was bereft — oh, no man could be gayer ; Said he, although of money I am very much in need, 'I'o wed with such a vampire, oh, I should be blind indeed. Fol de rol, &,c. 'I'he beadle was full six feet high, and bloated big and burly, Ken his great gold-laced cockd hat» at the little boys look'd surly ; 10 THE APOLLO. He srailed upon the widow with a loving eye, and steady. And would have married her — but in truth he'd got two wives already. Fol de rol, &c. When the congregation through she'd leer'd at all the fellows. She caught at last a gawky boy, who blew the organ bellows ; Breathless at the thought of her, he said — whoo, whoo, whoo, whoo, To meet through her, a blow from death, no blow me if I do. Fol de rol, &c. The Sexton was a feeble man, and eighty years of age. He eyed her every Sunday — but afraid was to en- gage ; Said he, each former spouse, they say, she buried in his prime, I'd wed her — but I-do not wish to die before my time, Fol de rol, &c. At last the Sexton's journeyman, who labour'd like a Turk, For his master got the profit, for which he did all the work ; Ot this grave lil'e, said he, I'm tired — I'll wed her though she's strange, And whether she kills me or not — egad, 'twill make a change. Fol de rol, &c. So boldly then he courted her, and did the folks amaze. She did not care for decency, but married him in two days : And ere the honey-moon was o'er, she died — and, lucky elf, He'd all the money, and with joy, he dug her grave hiraseU. Fol de rol, ves, for the honour of Old England, and the dear girl I love. And sing — Ri tol, &c. THE APOLLO. 21 NOTHING. (I". Hudson.) \A'fiEN rhyming and verses at first were in fashion. And poets and authors indulged in their passion, Select what they might tor their subject 'twas new, And that's more than our modern scribblers can do : The ancients have work'd upon each thing in nature. Described its variety, genius, and feature ; They having exhausted all fancy could bring. As nothinrj is left, why of nothing I sing. From nothing we came, and whatever our station, To nothing we owe an immense obligation ; Whatever we gain, or whatever we learn. In time we siiall all into nothing return. Tiiis world came from nothing, at least so says history, Oi (;<»urae about nothing there's something of mys- tery ; I\ia!t came from nothing, and by the same plan, W iiiuan was made from the rib of a man. Since then a man thinks a nothing of taking A woman to join, and again his rib making ; As nothing can give so much joy to his lile, For nothing's so sweet as a good-humour'd wile. From nothing we came. ivc. '\ [linking of nothing is some (oiks' enjoyment, I>ii;iig ol nothing a many's employment; The love of tiiis nothing have some folks so sfrong, The, say nollnng — do nuthi)ig — all the day long. Sniiu- pass their time, nothing beginning, f?y nothing losing, and by nothing winning ; l^othing they buy, and nothing they sell, Nothing they know, and ot nothing they lell. From nothing we came, &c. There's something in nothing exceedinglv clever, yiurh/ng will last out for e\er and ever ; 22 THE APOLLO. Time will make ever)' thing fade away last, While nothiny will certainly durable last. You may talk about anything, but its condition With nothing for certain can't bear competition ; And so I praise nothimj, for nothing my gains, And n«thincj I certainly get for my pains. From nothing we came, &c. That life is all nothing is plainer and plainer, So he who gets nothing is surely a gainer ; All about nothing I prove pretty plain. Take nothing from nothing, there'll nothing remain. Thus with this nothing the time out liu spiimjiig. Nothing will sometimes set many folks grinning : Believe me in this there is notlung so true, The author wrote this having nothing to -lrog on the hill. With Terence Mulroony and Ronry Mc. Fiyn?" " Go ax, you ould hlag>juard\'''' said Brien O'Lyn. THE APOLLO. ell. THE APOLLO. 41 But, tt) hnpe and peace a stranger. To the battle's beat I'll go; Where, exposed to ev'ry danger, Some iViendly ball shall lay rae low. Then, njayhap, when homeward steering, With the news my messmates come. Even you, the story hearing, With a sigh may cry "poor Tom !" FOG AND RATN; OR, JOYS OF TOWN. (W. H. Freeman.) Tune— Mrs. Casey. Oh, London's such a charming place, so fine and so bewitching. That country lads all thither haste, and for its joys are itching; Papa and Ma, good bye, they bawl, and oft' for Lun- nun starting, Declare they think the country all my eye and Betty Martin. Spoken.] Come, Coachee, knock 'em along, my boy, how far to Lunnun now? Only five miles. I say. Bill, how d'ye like it? Oh, werry much ; I say. how we spins along, don't we, eh? Ah, there's Lunnun. [ say, Coachee, vat's that 'ere place, like the top of a lantern ? Why, that's St. Paul's. St. Paul s ! I say, Ben, what a rich man that Mr. Pauls must be to have such a precious great house? Bless me, what a smoke. 1 say, Coachman., put me down at Mr. Bris- ket's the butcher's, in Whitechapel, will you ? Yes, ma'am. I say, Coachee, where do we stop at? The Blue Boar, sir. I say, Ben. vat a bore it will be if they von't let us have a bed there, eh ? Why, yes, we shall have the chance of standing in the street all night, and hear the watchman bawl Ri fol de rol, &c. E 3 42 THE APOLLO. Their hands in both their pockets crainni'cl, tliey gape about so silly, And now Ironi side to side are jammed, whilst ramb- ling Piccadilly; And now the rain begins to fall, whilst some for coaches bawling, And Bill upsets an apple stall as he is backward falling. Spoken.] There, you stupid country fellow, you shall pay for my apples ; vou've upset them allin the mud. There, brother Ben, you've just got into it. No, brother I>ill, 1 be just got out on't. Dash that there gutter! look at my white corderoys ; I'm just like a mudlark. There's my best silk umbrella spoilt — that gent, has run the top of his smack through it. Never mind, ma'am, 'twill let in more air. La, sir, I'm sure mamma had airs enough of her own before. Faugh ! that fellow's splashed me from head to foot, 'pon honour. Lud, papa, I've lost my shoe. Shoo, shoo, come along, child, let's go through Exeter 'Change, We shan't change for the worse. Take care, sir, you'll run your stick into my eye. That's all my eye, sir. Oh, I've lost my patten. That's a very bad pattern to set. I declare my pelisse is wringing wet. Turn it then, and put the dry side outwards, my darling. I tell you what, if yon pushes me in that 'ere way again, I'll give you such a divil of a Ri fol de rol, &c. And now a heavy fog arrives just to encrease vex- ation. And hurry scurry each one drives, and all is con- sternation ; Says brother Ben, we've lost our way — says Bill we're done for certain, Whilst both exclaim, in town to stay's my eye and Bettv Martin. THE APOLLO. 43 Spoken] Bless my soul, what a sinoke. Terrible. A light, a light ! l^ight ! damme, a man that would make light of this would make light of any mis for- tune. Bless me, sir, how clumsy you are; you've run up against rae, and knocked all ray teeth down my throat. Beg pardon, ma'am; very sorry, and all that: couldn't help it: quite accidental. By your leave. Take care of your heads. Heads I oh, damme, take care of your pockets. Oh, ray toes, my toes. Put them in your reticule then, ma'am. I'll thank yeu not to ridicule my wife's toes, if you please, sir. Oh, botheration, what a crowd. I'll stand under this gateway till they're all gone by, and amuse roysell by singing Ri fol de nA, &c. THE BANNER OF BLUE. Suitg by Madame Vestris. Strike up ! strike up ! strike up ! Scottish minstrels so gay, Tell of Wallace, that brave warlike man ; Sing also of Bruce — your banners display, While each chief leads on his bold clan. Here's success, Caledonia to thee, To the sons of the thistle so true. Then march ! gaily march ! so cantie and fire. There's none like the banners so blue. March on ! march on ! march on ! to the brazen trumpet's sound. How quickly in battle, in battle array ; Each brave Higland chief assembles his men. And they march to the bagpipes so gay. Here's success, Caledonia, to thee. To the sons of the thistle so true ; Then march ! gaily march ! so cantie and free. There's none like the banners so blue. 44 THK APOLLO. A CONVERSATION BETWIiEN GOG AND MAGOG. IVritlen expresr.hj for Mr, FUzvUllam and Mr. Vale. I WENT unto the civic feast along with Mister Horner, And having bHcl a glass too much crept slyly in a corner ; When I awoke 1 found myself quite dizzy with Oc- tober, When presently I heard a voice that quickly made me sober. God bless the present Lord Mayor, and all the cor- poration. There never was a better one to fill the situation. The far-fam'd March of Intellect has taken wond'rous pains, sir. Since it clearly has inspired Gog and Magog with brains, sir ; For it was them that I heard speak with voices like to thunder, And when wooden giants talk it needs must be a wonder. God bless, &c. Says Gog to brother Magog, " queer doings we have seen, sir, Since stationed in this hall a century we've been, sir ; There was a time when lotteries did make our dwel- ling brisk, sir. And citizens might get some cash at but a trifling risk, sir. God bless, &c. There have been times, observed Magog, when in our large hall was seen, sir. Not only Lords and Princes, but a royal King and Queen, sir ; THE APOLLO. 45 That did honour to our feast, new subjects we were looking, Cobbett's long speeches tire us, and so does Hunt'» best blacking. God bless, &c. " There was a time," replied Gog, " when City dames dress'd neat, sir. Now like their sisters of the west, the contrast is complete, sir ; There was a time when bankruptcies did make a great oration. Now nothing can more common be than golden spe- culation." God bless, &c. " True," said Atagog, and heaved a sigh that made the old roof shake, sir, " If I had money out at use, 'twould cause me for to quake, sir ; But see the day begins to dawn, our conversation's ended, But brother Gog 'twixt you and F, 'tis time those things were mended. God bless, &c. OLD TOWLER. iSung by Mr. Badland. Bright Chanticleer proclaims the dawn. And spangles deck the thorn ; The lowing herds now quit the lawn, The lark springs from the corn : Dogs, huntscnen, round the window throng. Fleet Towler leads the cry ; Arise the burthen of the song, This day a stag must die ! With a hey ho, chivy ! Hark forward, tantivy I Arise the burthen ol the soug^ 'i'his day a stag must die. 46 THE APOLLO. Tlip cor«]ial takes its merry round, 'I lie lauf^h and joke prevail ; 'I'he huntsman blows a jovial sound, The dof^s sniili up the gale. The upland winds they sweep along. O'er fields, through brakes they fly ; The game is roused, too true the song, This day a stag must die. With a hey ho, kc. Poor stag, the dogs thy haunches gore. The tears run down thy face; The huntsman's pleasure is no more. His joys were in the chase. Alike the sportsmen of the town. The virgin came in view, Are full content to run them down, Then they in turn pursue. With their hey ho, &c. *^ ■»*■*-»■ THE aiOON IS UP. A Serenade in answer to" Rise, (Jeritle Moon," written by Mrs- CorntieU Baron Wilson. TfJK moon is up ! her silv'ry beam Shines bow'r, and grove, and mountain o'er : A flood of radiance heaven doth seem, To light thee, maiden, to thy lover. If o'er her orb a cloud should rest, 'Tis but thy cheek's soft blush to cover. He waits to clasp thee to his breast, The moon is up ! go meet thy lover. The moon is up ! round beauty's shrine. Love's pilgrims bend at vesper hour, Earth breathes of heaven aud looks divine. And lovers' hearts confess her power. If o'er her orb, 8iC. THE APOLLO. 47 THE NEW LONDON ClilES. Tune—Jht night coacli. DE\n me ' what a squalling and bawling, What noise, and what bustle in London pervades; People of all surts shouting and calling, London's a mart, sure, for men of all trades. The chwmny so black, sir, with bag on his back, sir, Commences the noise, with the cry of "sweep! sweep !" Then Dusty and Crusty with voices so lusty^ Fish-men and green-men, their nuisances keep. Dear me, Scc. Fine water cresses, two bunches a penny. Fine new milk, two-pence ha'p'ny a quart; Come buy my fine matches — as long as I've any, Carrots and turnips, the finest e'er bought. Dainty fresh salmon ! without any cjammon, Hare-skins or rabbit-skins ! hare-skin, cook, buy, *Taters all sound, sir, two-pence six pound, sir. Coals, ten-pence a bushel, buy them and try ! Dear me, &c. Here's songs, three yards for a penny ! Comic songs, love songs, and funny songs, too; Billy Barlow, — Little Mike,— Paddy Denny ! The Bailiff's are Coming — and Brian Boru. Eels, four-pence a pound — pen knives here ground. Scissors ground sharp, a penny a pair ! Tin kettles to mend, sir, your fenders here send, sir. For six-pence a piece, I will paint 'em with care. Dear me, 8iC. Come buy my old man, a penny a root. The whole true account of the murder last night ! Fine Seville oranges, ne'er was such fruit. Just printed and published the last famous fight. 48 THE APOLLO. Arrivet? here tliis raoTnincr, — strange news from Oreece. \ victory ^ain'd o'er the g^reat Turkish fleet; Chairs to mend — hair brooms, a shilling a piece ! Cap box, bonnet-box — cats' and dogs' meat. Dear u>e, &€. Here's ingvns a penny a rope, Pots and pans — old clothes, clo^ for sale ! A dread storm near the Cape of Good Hope, Greens two-pence a bunch — twenty-pence a new pail. Sprats, penny a plateful — 1 should feel wery grateful. Kind friends, for a ha'p'ny, for my babes' sakes ; Shrimps, penny a pot — baked 'taters all hot ! Muffins and crumpets, or fine Yorkshire cakes. Bear me, &c. IN VAIN, DEAR FRIENDS, EACH HEART TO TRY. Sung by Miss H. Cawse, in " The IVaterman," at Cavent Garden Theatre. In vain, dear friends, each heart to try; To neither lover's suit incliu'd : On outward charms I'll ne'er rely. But priz« the graces of the mind. The empty coxcomb which you chose. Just like the flower of a day, Shook by eaeh wind that folly blows. Seems born to flutter and decay. Your choice an honest aspect wears ; To give him pain I oft have grieved. But it proceedeth from my fears ; Than me much wiser are deceived, I thank you both — then, for your love. Wait for my choice a little while; And he who must shall worthy prove, My band I'll offer with a smile. THE APOLLO, '^Like Q in the corner, poor Billy was stuck, Till out of the window they gave bim a chuck." BILLY CROW AND MISS VATSOiNT. (Mis5 Bryant.) Tunf— Kitty Clover. Billy Crow loved Miss Vatson, a girl to his mind, Oh, oh, oh, oh, — Oh, oh, oh, oh ! She was not very big, bat she was very kind — Oh, oh, &c. When shop was shut up to her he would pop, To fetch her a quartern, or give hei a drop; O sweet Billy Crow Was a nice little beau ! Oh, oh, &c. . Says he, " sweet Miss Vatson, will you be my spouse ?" Oh, oh, &c. But she cocked down her eyes and she cocked up her nose ; Oh, oh, &c. 3. F 50 THE APOLLO. Says she, " do yon ihink I will marry yon ? Oh, no, Billy Crow, I 11 he blowM il I do ; I love Billy Crow — But raarry you — no." Oh, no, &c. That moment bounced in a great tall grenadier ! Oh, oh, &c. Who treated Miss Vatson to muffins and beer ; Oh, uh, &c. Like Q in the corner, poor Billy was stuck, Till out of the window they gave him a chuck ; Then poor Billy Crow Went tumbling below. Oh, oh, &c. He ran home in a passion, himself for to shoot ; Oh, oh, &c. But, says he, " no I vont, for I'll go a recruit," Oh, oh, &c. Then to jump in the water came into his head. But the water being cold, why he jumped into bed ; So forgot all his woe. For to sleep he did go. Oh, oh, SiC. Miss Vatson the sojer soon took for her bride, Oh, oh, &c. And Billy, in sorrow soon after died, Oh. oh, &c. Thu5 my tale is all over, and what shall I do — If in striving to please, my friends, I cannot please you ? So away I will go, But first make my bow. Oh, oh. &c. THE APOLLO. 51 MY OCEAN LOVE. (Miss L. E. Liindon.) The lights are fair in my father's hall The red wine is bright to see; But ni flee like a bird, and leave them all. My ocean love, for thee. There is gold around my silken robe. And white pearls are in my hair ; And they say that gems and the broider'd test Are woman's chiefest care. Bat dearer to me is one silent smile Of thine eagle eye than them all ; And dearer the deck (.f thy bark to me, Than my father's lighted hall. I have no home now but thine arms. And they are all the world to me; And be thou but true, I'll never regret All, dear love, I have left for thee. THE GREAT MOGUL AND THE BLUE BOTTLE. (G. Colman.) Sung hy Mr. Jones, at the Eagle Tavern. .4fr — Of a noble raoe in Sbenkin. Oh! the Great "Vlogal call'd Babor, Was a little fat panchinello; On his Ottoman gay, How he dozed all day, Squat under a grand umbrella ! /lir— Cease rude Boreas. V\"hen a monarch so despotic, ^ ielded to ^hf- »lrnwsy god. Spreading round hiiu a narc(»(ic, Ail his court began to nod : — f2 62 THE APOLLO. Air — We're a» noi'dio. So they all notlded, uitl, nid, nodded. All nodded, round the Creat Mo^jul. When he chanc'd to wake, how brisk they grew. When again he nodded, then they all nodded too; And they all nodded, 8^c. i4ir— Black Joke. But it happen'd one day, while to sleep he incliu'd, That a mighty big fly of the Hindostan kind. Kept buzzing just under the Great Mogul's nose. "By Mahomet 1" bellow'd the Emperor, then, "If that blue-bottle erer should plague me again, My first lord in waiting, that minute shall die. Unless he immediately catches the fly, That dares to disturb my imperial repose." i4ir— Maid of Lodi. Again soft slumbers rcimlng, The Emperor ceased lo speak ; Again the fly came huiuming. And stuck upon his cheek. Av — Let the to;i»t pasi. Then the first lord in waiting took aim with much grace. Calling all his good stars to assist him : And dealt the Mogul a sound slap in the face, Crying, "curse the blue-bottle, I've missed him ! Rot it, how dull 1 \Voe on my scull ! The fly has escap'd and I've floor d the Mogul !" Air — Young Lobuki. The ]\logul got up, with fury fraught, A limner then his likeness caught; Which makes him look so grim they say, On packs of cards, in the present day. The present day, SiC. THE APOLIO. 53 WHEN HOPE WAS QUITE SUNK IN DESPAIR. (Allan R.ioj^ay.) When hope was quite sunk in despair. My heart was agoing to break ; My heart appeared worthless my care, But now I will sav't for thy sake : Where'er my love travels by day, Wherever he lodg-es by uight, Wi' me his dear image shall stay. And my soul keep him ever in sight. Wi' patience I'll wait the lang year, And study the gentlest charms ; Hope time away till thoo appear. To lock thee, for ay in these arms. \\'hilst thou wast a shepherd. I prized No higher degree in this life ; But now I'll endeavour to rise To a height that's becoming thy wife. For beauty, that's only skin deep. Must fade like the gowans in May ; But, inwardly rooted, will keep For ever, without a decay. Nor age, nor the changes of life. Can quench the fair fire of love; If virtue's ingrain'd in the wife. And the husband ha'e sense to approve. WHEN A LITTLE FARM WE KEEP. A favorite Duet, surt^ bu Mr. and Mrs. Glitidon, at the JlTiite Conduit Gardens, He. WuBN a little farm we keep, And have little girls and boys, With little pigs and sheep, To make a little noise, Oh; what happy merry day* we 11 we I f3 54 THE APOLLO. She. Then \ve"II keep a little maid, And a little luan beside, And a little horse and pad, To take a little ride. With the children sitting on our knee. He. The boys I'll conduct. She. The girls I'll instruct. He. In reading, I'll engage, Each son is not deficient ; She. In music, I'll presage. Each girl is a proficient. He. Now, boy, your B A — BA, She. Now, girl, your solfa. \_Here she is supposed to teach a cjirl to sing, atid ha to teach a hoy to read, by tellinrj him little stories. Both. When a little farm we keep. And have little girls and boys, With little pigs and sheep, To make a little noise, — Oh, what happy merry days we'll see ! THE CASKET. RECITATIVE. A LOKDLING sought a maidens lore to gain. With glittering gems afi'ection's fount assail'd. A casket gave — those gifts were still in vain. The titled donor her coyness still bewail'd. AIR. O, take these glittering toys, A simple girl like me To them attach no joys, Tho' the splendid gift's from thee, A riclier gift thy friend would have A richer gift my heart doth crave. THE APOLLO. Tlie i^ilt I ask is love, VV'hose casket is the heart, And that I prize above The gems from which I part ; More sweet that love if true it prove, IMore rich than gems is faithful love. Yes, leave that hoop of gold. For that 1 take from thee ; Repeat the vows oft told. And accept those vows from me— No richer gift thy friend would have. No richer gift xny heart doth crave. LET THE TOAST PASS. (a new version.) Sujig by Messrs. Hayes 4 Seacomhe, at the Eagle Tavern. Here's to the maiden of bashful fifteen. Here's to the widow of fifty. Here's to the king, and here's to the queen, And here's to the housewife that's thrilty. Let the toast pass, empty your glass. And fill up a bumper to some pretty lass. Let the toast pass, Jkc. Here's to the Navy and Army so bold, Here's to the lass with a dimple, Here's to the wife who seldom does scold, And here's to the maiden not simple. Let the toast pass, &c. Here's to the girl all so cheerful and gay. Who can joke with a friend and be merry. Here's to the friend who bids you to stay And partake of his bottle of sherry. Let the toast pass, &c. 56 T>IE APOLLO. Here's to the doctor who cures you if ill. Here's to the lawyer that's honest. Here's to the tradesman who makes a just bill. And here's to the lassie that's bonniest. Let the toast pass, &c. Here's to the statesman who refuses a bribe. Here's to the judge not partial. Here's to the jury who truly decide. Here's success to a fair court martial. Let the toast pass, &ic. Here's to reform in affair of state, To the sinecure placemen amends Heform in the pensions of the wealtliy and great, And long life to our king and his friends. Let the toast pass, &c. :V1ACBETH. Tune— Madam Fig's Gala. Go, boy, and thy good mistress tell, (She knows that my purpose is cruel,) I'd thank her to tingle the bell. As soon as she's heated my gruel. Go, get thee to bed, and repose. To sit up so late is a scandal ; ' But, 'ere you have ta'en off your clothes. Be sure that you put out that candle. Kumpti iddity, &c. My stars ! in the air here's a knife I'm sure it cannot be a hum; I'll catch at the handl-e, odds life. And then 1 shall not cut my thumb. I've got him ! no, at him again ! Come, come, I'm not fond of these jokes: This must be some blade of the brain, Those tvitches are giv'n to hoax. Rumpti iddity, 8ic. k THE APOLLO. 57 I've one in my pocket, I know, My wile lek OD purpose behind her; She bought this of Teddy-heigh-ho, The poor Caledonian griuder. T see thee again ! o"er thy middle Large drops of red blood now are spilled. Just as much as to say diddle, diddle, Good Duncan, pray come and be killed. Rnmpti iddity, &c. It leads to his chamber, T swear; I tremble and quake ev'ry joint ; No dog, at the scent of a hare. Ever yet made a cleverer point. Ah, no! 'twas a dagger of str\w. Give me b'i7ikers,to save me from starting; The knife that 1 thought that f saw Was nought but ?«y ei/e Betty Martin. iiumpti iddity, S^c. No\T, o'er this terrestrial hive, A liJe paralytic is spread. For awhile the one half is alive. The other is sleepy and dead. King Duncan, in grand majesty, Has got my state bed for a snooze, I've lent him my slippers, so I May certainly stand in his shoes. Rumpti iddity, &c. Blow softly, ye murmuring gales, Ye feet rouse no echo in walking. For, though a dead man tells no tales. Dead lualls are much given to talking. This knife shall be in at the death, V\\ sticl: hiin, then off safely get. Cries the world, this conld not be Macbeth, For he'd ne'er stich at any thing vet. Rumpti iddity, &cc. 58 THE APOLLO. Hark ! hark ! 'tis the signal, by golets, It sounds like a funeral kuell ; O, hear it not, Duncan, it tolls To call thee to heaven or hell. Or, if you to heav'n wont fiy. But rather prefer Pluto's ether. Only wait a few years till I die. And we'll go to the devil together. Runipti iddity, &c. MR. MISANTHROPE. A Selection from a New Eittertainment for W. H. Williams, written by James Brut on, "A Mr. Misanthrope was next announced; and ag his name implied, a living picture of misery, he entered with a measured step, and in a hollow tre- molous voice enquired after our healths. He had on a hat of most formidable dimensions, with a profu- sion of crape bound round it ; a large black coat, which fitted him too much; black breeches, black gaiters, square-toed shoes, and black buckles.- " How do, Mr. Misanthrope?" said Baconface. " Don't ask after ray health, its a mockery of woe." " But we expected you to spend your Christmas with us, Mr. Misanthrope. "Oh, don't talk of feasting and merriment, my Christmas is all berried, my days are measured. I should have called before, only I have been detained by Mr. Solomon Solemn, the undertaker and sexton, about my coffin — life is very uncertain ! — well, how are my friends —any of them dead? 'here to day, and gone tomorrow,' you know — Wick, the tallow-chandler, died yesterday, went off like the snuff of a candle, left the moulds for the mould — as Solomon Solemn told me this morning — but he greased Solomon' s fist , tho?igh be- fore he went — life's very uncertain ! — J've been reading of the 'Monks of St. Bernard,' this morning. THE APOLLO. 59 who dug part of tlieir graves, every clay wliile they lived; I was much amused with the story, but its quite true. What you've got the mistletoe hanging up there, I see ? — ah ! the ivy and cypress is more befitting me ! — I'm a walking shadow ! — 1 was taken yesterday for seventy, though I'm only just turned forty seven — you'll come to my burying, wont you ? I know I have your esteem, gentlemen, and in order to return, in some little way, the compliment for asking me to join your festivities, I'm come to ask you to my funeral. — I can't exactly fix upon the day, it wont be long though — for life is very uncertain ! — Parson Redgills preached a very affecting sermon at our church yesterday, kept the audience in a roar all .i the whole time — T like to hear him preach, he's a very entertaining man, he compared life to a drea7n, when I was so worked up at last, with the subject, that I fell asleep, and never woke till they began to sing the psalms — You'll come to my funeral ? I know you will, I have only invited a few, 1 don't like too ma-ny followers — my poor departed wife didn't ; poor soul, when she died, I never looked up after her. — [ was reading the 'Grave Scene' in 'Hamlet,' this morning, which put me in mind of speaking to Mr. Solomon Sofemn, about looking for a p'ace for me — I told him to look out, and see if there's any chance of an opening for a body. I've been secluded this fortnight, till these two nights past, and suffered no one inside the house, except the chimney sweep — I don't like any colour but black, for I've a sick house at home, and I've only had the chimney cured — yet nobody seems to care for me now, but I'm nearly gone, and then when I'm dead I shall be pitted, look at the load of years on my back, soon weigh me to the earth ; Time, every twelvemonths keeps throwing an additional load on me, I must sink beneath the burden before long; but still 1 can look upon Death as a philosopher, or talk like Hamlet in the church- 60 THE APOLLO. yard, for denth is a jester — don't he play at 'pitch in the hohV don't he flay at marbles? don't he make yon knuckle dotvn, if he j^ets * one on your tthhyV an't he almost sure to hill you, if he gets you to play a yame with you ? Good bye, don't forget my funeral. OH! CEASE TO THROB MY ACHING HEART. Oh! cease to throb, my aching heart, IVIy brow's o'erspread with grief; This life to nie no jays impart, In vain I seek relief. I've sought the ball — the festive throng, In pleasure's maze I've mix'd ; I've sought the grove, the linnet's song, But care with rae is fixed. Ah ! what I felt, when in mine ear, He sigh'd a long farewell ; And since that time, with me I fear^ All joy has ceas'd to dwell ; He kiss'd my hair and softly said. My love, to you I'm true — And soon the vessel's sails were spread. And dwindled from ray view. COMMON SENSE IS ALL NONSENS Oh ! music, sweet music's the language for me. Dull tattle to distance I fling it. Small talk und long sermons are fiddle de dee. If you'd speak to some tune you must sing it : Thns the lawyer's sharp, and you'll naturally own That his client's a flat, after trial ; The 'spuire plays the sackbut, the priest plays the drone. And the doctor shakes well on the viol. Conraon sense is all nonsense and fiddle de dee, Sweet music's the language for me. THE APOLLO. 61 Tlie lover to pla_y a duet would aspire, The widower pipes all forlorn, sirs, The shame-faced young bachelor hums with the lyre. And the married man oft plays the horn, sirs ; The sailor wind instruments loudly would blow. The soldier a drum let him thump it, The traveller plays with a very long bow. And the coxcomb he sounds his own trumpet. Common sense, &c. Upon a full bagpipe the usurer doats. The spendthrift with gin'gle would stun ye, The signora sings discord without her bank notes. And the banker deals large in har — mony. In. England the musical glasses oft ring, In France, they sing, small folks to diddle. In Ireland, Pat harps on a blundering string, And in Scotland they scrape the Scotch fiddle. Common sense, &c. The scold's vocal music is rapid and light, The prude a slow organ would blow, boys. The coquette loves to rosin her bows day and night, And the school-girl to flourish with ho — boys ; But the ladies, God bless 'em ! are ne'er out of tane. And so sweet is their mouth-piece, the fact ia, I eoald be instrumental, night, morning, aud noon. And neyer grow tired of practice. Common sense, Sec. *^*-»*^ BEWARE! Sung by Miss Blanchard, at the Eagle Tavern, Ye village maids with looks serene. Whose cheeks the blush of virtue bear. When gaily dancing on the green, Of the Syren flattery beware ! Beware ! beware ! Of the Syren flattery beware ! 62 THE APOLLO. For when the heart with joy o'erflows With pleasure beating, tree from care How great the danger, no one knows ; Of the Syren flattery beware ! Beware, Sec. Ladies, believe not half you hear. The beaux will call you angels fair, And swear ^tis true, too oft T fear ; Of the syren flattery beware. Beware, 8iC. Men may deceive — no promise make, Nor trust thera till the ring they bear. Your hand and heart they then may take- Of flirting then, I pray, beware ! Beware ! beware ! Of flirting then, I pray, beware. THE TROUBADOUR'S RETURN. Masic pablisbed by Daff, 65, Oxford Street. How sweetly sounds the Tillage bells, While garlands we entwine. To welcome home the troubadour. Who comes from Palestine : His gentle lute that oft has cheer'd The soldier's lonely hours, Will wake the song of joy once more, And glad his native bowers. Yet there is one who anxious looks Among the warlike train. For him who never will return From Syria's fatal plain. But, ah ! my soldier bard shall seek. Her anguish to dispel. And tell how oft he bravely fought. And how he nobly fell. THE APOLLO. 63 TEL EST LE MONDE. (F. W. N. Bay ley, Esq.) I H4VE been in the town and the city — I've mixed with the old and the young; I've talked with the wise and the witty, One provert is still on each tongue. ' Chacun por soimeme' is the maxim, You hear in the house or the street; Your friends then — oh, pray do not tax 'em, For tel est le monde ma petite. For a ticket I ask'd Mr. E — , To go to his concert to day ; But he said he had none, so yon see I must e'en be contented away. In the garb of our friends men are drest, They manifest joy when they meet ; But refuse e'en a modest request. For tel est le monde ma petite. Last night Mr. A — gave a ball. He is rank'd among Bankrupts to-day; The friends who were once all in all. Will now pass if they meet Mr. A — . They will hasten to treat him with scorn. The were far though from scorning his treat ; But his friends with his money are gone, And tel est le monde ma petite. MY OWN RED NOSE. Tunf— My own Blue Bell. ; My own red nose, my jolly red nose. That I love gin, it clearly shows ; In the glass I view streaks red and blue. For oh ! my dear bottle, how 1 Iotb you. g2 64 THE APOLLO. Oh ! yes 'tis true, 1 love ruin blue, For it is taken by ev'ry old shrew ; Some pass their nights in joyous fun, For there's no joy like drinking under the sun? My own red ni)se, 8ic. My own red nose, my jolly red nose. When in my chair I take a doze ; The music sweet, you oft repeat, Soon from us make all others retreat ; VVhate'er they think, still I will drink, From Hodge's best I'll never shrink; And though a toper me they call, A red nose is better than none at all. My own red noue, &c. THE SILENT HARP And hang thou there in silence harp. Till sorrow's day is past; Awhile thy chords shall c«*ase to sound, Save to the howling blast. When time shall bring my lover back, To ease this bosom's pain. Thou then shall sound o'er Erin's hills, My songs of joy again. And hang thou there in silence harp, A food memorial dear. Of him who plighted me his love, And my bewildering fear ! So shait thou 'scape the harsher notes. That jarring discord Hiu<4S, No rebel hand shall e'er pollute Thy ever hallow'd strings I THE APOLLO. 65 THE SPECTRE STATUE; OR, A TOUCH AT THE TIMES. (W. H. Freeman.) Sling by Mj . Haddaway, at the Royal Pavilion Theatre, i4ii— Miss Bailey. One frosty night, by the moonlight. As homeward I retreated; O'er Charing Cross, where on his horse. King Charles is proudly seated : 1 heard a voice both loud and hoarse, Which sounded grave and hollow ; And such a sigh — which seem'd quite nigh. And then these words did follow — Oh, dear ! oh, dear ! 1 can't refrain from speaking; Don't think me rude, that I intrude. But. ah ! my heart is breaking. I turned to see, who this could be, And trembled every joint in; The Statue's jaw, wide open saw. His truncheon t'wards me pointing. An ague fit I seemed to get. And fain I had retreated ; VVhen hold ! it said — with fright half dead, I heard again repeated — Oh, dear ! &c. Stay, mortal, stay ! do'nt run away. But hear my lamentation ; For 1 have seen, since here I've been. Sad changes in the nation. Full many years, so it appears. Since first I took this place 'tis, Of each old friend, they've made an end. Or given them new faces. Ob, dear ! &c. g3 66 THE APOLLO. The old King's Mews, they now abuse, What the deuce is their mducemtni ; You know 'twas meant but lor a Mews, And never for a-muse-riient. The beasts, w hen I — to years gone by. My thoughts are backward rolling. To increase my woes, break all repose By their confounded growling. Oh, dear! &c. Physicians too, their college new. To add to my annoyraent; Have raised, good lack ! close at my back, And now to yield employment. To build is planned, and close at hand, (I'm angry in reality) ; A hospital — confound, I say. Such sickly hospitality. Ob, dear! &c. There's old Whitehall, long known by all Mechanics and nobility, Where civil strife cut short my life, By barbarous incivility. And Treasury, alike 1 see, Have beautified their faces; But, ah ! on mine — the hand of Time Is making heavy traces. • Oh, dear ! &c. St. Martin's Church is left in the lurch. It really stry odd is ; The quick are flown, but not alone, For so are all the bodies. One half the Strand, I understand. Presents a scene of ruin ; Of many a friend I've seen an end. And many more are going. Oh, dear ! &,c. THE APOLLO. 67 Tlie gas by night destroys my sigLt. By day I'm stunned by coaches, I'm fill'd with ails, my vision fails, And deafness fast approaches. I'm so perplexed, chagrined, and vexed, No wonder that I'm crusty, My armour now, and poor horse too. Alike are growing rusty. Oh, dear ! &,c. Just then a cloud the moon did shroud. The clock of famed St. Martin, With iron tone, proclaimed it — one, With awe the Statue starting; Exclaimed, away ! the dawn of day i see begins to peep in ; Whoe'er you be, remember me, When snug in bed you're creeping. Oh. dear I oh, dear ! My heart is really breaking: Some day, alas ! this way you'll pass. And find this spot forsaken. PRETTY DOVE FLY AWAY. Fly away, pretty dove, fly away. Thy mission be sure to perform ; For if ever thou sheuld'st go astray, Thou'lt leave thy poor mistress forlorn. Hence away, and keep careful thy wings. That no prying maiden may see. And I'll watch 'till ray little dove brings The answer from Henry to me. He is off, and aware of the charge. Well pleased she should in him confide ; And enlivened in being at large. He mounts the air gaily with pride. 68 THE APOLLO. Thus elated, expanding each wing. As the heaven of hope he espies ; He was pierced with an arrow, poor thing, And fell, alas, never to rise. Oh, he never will fly away more, His days they are nnmber'd and past ; Now his light airy rambles are o'er, And this was his truest — his last. Often hope's fond allurement beguiles. To deceive and inconstant to prove ; Thus he died, pretty dove, in her smiles, The emblem and victim of love. ADIEU TO DEAR CAMBRIA. (Miss M. S. Lawrence.) Music published by Z, T. Purday, 46, High Holborn. Adieu, thou dear land of the forest and fountain. The fate that divides us I deeply deplore. Thy vales, fertile fields, and thy wild heathy moun- tain, Alas ! I may dwell 'raid their beauties no mure ; In thee I first felt the purest emotion. And fondest affection, though rent is that chain ; And oh ! I have loved thee with deeper devotion, Thane'er I can feel in this wide world again. Oh, dear are thy glens, and thy wild waters flowing, Rapid and sparkling among the green trees. And dear are thy hills in the summer sun glowing. But dearer than all, is thy health breathing breeze. Although now afar from the land of the wild-wood ! I hope that my life-star may set where it rose. And in the sweet scenes of my earliest childhood; Beneath thy green turf I may calmly repoae. THE APOLLO. 69 ODD FELLOWS ALL. Tune— Bow, wow, wow, >fow what this fuss is all about, we find no friend to tell us, jord why these folks make such a rout they call themselves odd fellows! But prythee teaze yourselves no more, our secrets jou won't find, sir, Sut that we're all odd fellows you may see if you're amind, sir. Odd fellows all, &c. rhe lawyer's an odd fellow, and his clients soon dis- cover it ; rhe lover's an odd fellow, but he always tries to smother it ; rhe drunkard's an odd fellow, and the more he drinks the drier is ! rhe Friar's an odd fellow, and odd places are their priories. Odd fellows all, &c. rhe Parson's an odd fellow, and a very well known fact it is, rhat though good lessons he doth teach not one in ten he practices ; The clerk is an odd fellow, and a sober man would think him mad, For loudly he will bawl amen, be the subject good or bad. Odd fellows all, &c. The judge is an odd fellow, for he never deals in flatteries ; The soldier's an odd fellow — and odd places are their batteries ; The sailor's an odd fellov^', and round the world he sails about. And if the se.a were tilled with grog, he'd empty every channel out. Odd fellows all, &c. 70 THE APOLLO. The tailor's an odd fellow, and an odd piece oftec cabbages ; The traveller's an odd fellow, for he goes to see the savages ; The king is an odd fellow, and he very fond of plea- sure is. Odd fellows are his ministers — odd places are his treasuries. Odd fellows all — search round the world you'll, find us odd fellows all. HE WILL BE THERE. From " Songs of Chivalry," by T. H. Bayly' He will be there ! On his white Arab steed, in his bright suit of mail, He will poise the good lance, never yet known to fail- He will be there ! Oh, the gauntlet he'll seize that the proudest throw down. And on Conquerors conquer'd he'll raise his renown. He will be there ! I will be there ! The gem that I gave on his helmet will shine, And the name that he breathes in the fight will be mine, I will be there ! A thousand bright eyes my love's triumph will see. My love's ^mid ien thousand would single out me. 1 will be there ! MAGGY LAUDER. Wha wadna' be in love Wi' bonny Maggy Lauder? A piper met her gaun to Fife, And speer'd what wast they cau'd her THE AFOLLO. 71 Uigbt scornfully she answer'd him, "Begone, you hallanjauker ; Jog ou yeur gate^ you bladder skate. My name is Maggy Lauder." " Maggy," quoth he, " and by my bags, I'm fidging fain to see thee ; Sit down by me, my bonnie bird, In troth I winna steer thee ; For I'm a piper to ray trade, My name is Rob the Ranter, The lasses loup as they were fain, When I blaw up my chanter." "Piper," quoth Meg, "hae ye your bags? Or is your drone in order? If ye be Rob, I've heard of you, — Live you upon the border? The lasses a', baith far and near, Hae heard of Rob the Ranter, I'll shake my foot wi' right good will, Gif ye'll blow up your chanter" Then to his bags he flew wi' speed. About the drone he twisted ; Meg up and wallop'd o'er the green. For brawly could she frisk it. ** Weel done," quoth he; ''play up," quoth she, " VVeel bobb'd," quoth Rob'the Ranter ; " 'Tis worth my while to play indeed. When I hae sic a dancer." •* Weel hae you played your part," quoth Meg ; " Your cheeks are like the crimson ; There's nane in Scotland plays sae weel. Since we lost Habby Simpson. I've lived in Fife, bait maid and wife, These ten years and a quarter ; Gin ye should come to Anster fair, Speerye for Maggy Lauder." 72 THE APOI.LO. ['LL RETURN. By the silence of the bowers Where we sang our songs oi" bliss ; By the bloom of those sweet flowers Which the evening dew-drops kiss ; By the lights of yon blue heaven — Distant stars that palely burn — By the hopes which thou hast given, I'll return ! By the dreams of children sleeping, Innocent as thoughts of thine; By the tears which thou art weeping, By the heart that now is mine! By the vows I used to make thee. Vows which fortune cannot turn — Dearest, though I must forsake thee, I'll return ! By thy sweet voice that can soften Cares no other could beguile ; By the lips I've kiss'd so often. By the beauty of thy smile. By the snow upon thy bosom, By its truth I've yet to learn. By thy charms, 'twere death to lose 'em ; Love, I swear it — I'll return. MARK'D YOU HER EYE. A Glee, for three voices. Mark'd you her eye of heavenly blue? Mark'd you her cheek of roseate hue ? That eye in liquid circles moving — That cheek abash'd at man's approving — The one love's arrows darting round — The other blushing at the wound. THE APOLLO. '• 1 bellow'd out, as you may guess, as loud as I was able, V\heu louse I went into a dining-room and fell upon the table." SAMMY SUCKLING'S MISFORTUNES. Sung by TV. Paul. T«ne— Bow, wow, wow. My name is Sammy Suckling, at least so said my mother, And I am her only son, because I have no brother; And so they thought it plain enough, i should have lots of knowledge, Or else I should without a doubt been finish'd at some college. Oh, dear, oh, The misfortunes sure that I endure, Oh, dear, oh. When but a youth, I went one day unto a dinner party. But never was there ask'd again, they say I eat too hearty j 4. H 74 THE APOLLO. And when at tea a lad^ slipt, 1 tried and should have caught her. But somehow by chance I caught the urn, u|)set the boiling water. Oh, dear, oh, &c. As I WBvS walking out one day, and o'er the street was crossing, A bull was mad, came running by, and gave me such a tossing : ] bellow'd out, as you may guess, as loud as I was able. When souse I went into a dining-room and fell upon the table. Oh, dear, oh, &c. A going into the country once, and seated on the coach so high. The axle broke, when down it came, and dropt me in a pig-stye ; The old sow she roll'd and turn'd me o'er just like a little squeaker. And when they came to take me out, they found 1 could not speak, sir. Oh, dear, oh, &c. 1 once fell in the Serpentine, once in the Park Canal, sir, Once in the river Thames, and once into a well, sir; And once when 1 was on the ice, at sliding T did try. When in I went, and should have drown'd, but for the Humane Society. Oh, dear, oh, &c. On entering of a butter shop, away went both my legs, sir, And neck and heels I tumbled into a box of eggs, sir ; And once on board a steamer, I went to see the Nore, The boiler burst, and up she blow'd and blow'd me on the shore. Oh, dear, oh, &c. One day I stirr'd the fire, the pot to boil the quicker. Somehow by chance the pot upset, and overturn'd the liqnor ; THE APOLLO. 75 In escaping from the mischief done, I trod upon the kitten, When old madam puss took up the cause, and I got both scratch'd and bitten, .dtor*' Ollf dear, oh, &c. It's very odd to me, my friends, that you should be enjoying Misfortunes that to me have proved so very much annoying ; But since my melancholy phiz has caused so much deligjit, My misfortunes to you I will relate on each succeed- ing night. Oh, dear, oh, &c. THE MORALIZING SOLDIER. (G. Coleman, Jun.) To arms, to arms, when captains cry'] With a heigho ! The trumpets blow ; To /*> bt>tne. THE APOLLO. 93 No more shall war Call him afar. Our soldiers are all Europe's pride — Their flags display, And music play. Who would not be a soldier's bride. Farewell kiss Gave hope and bliss, How dear to me this happy day. 31y heart and hand, At his command, Througk life we'll merrily march away. OR, WEEL BEFA' THE BONNY THING. (The Ellrick Shepherd.) O WEEL befa' the guileless heart, In cottage bught, or pen, And wee! befa' the bonny thing That smiles in yonder glen ; The lovely flovier I like sae weel^ \^'ha's aye sae kind and aye sae leel, And pure as blooming asphodel Among sae mony men. O weel befa' my bonny thing That smiles in yonder gleu. There's beauty in the violet's vest. There's hinny in the haw, There's dew within the rose's breast, The sweetest o' them a'. The sun may rise and set again, And lace with burning gowd the main, The rainbow bend ontower the plain, Sae lo\ely to the ken ; But there's naething like my bonny thing That smiles in yonder glen. 94 THE APOLLO. 'Tis sweet to hear the music float Alang the ojloamiDg lea ; 'Tis sweet to hear the blackbird's note Come pealiujj IVae the tree ; To see the lambkins' lightsome race. The speckled kid in wanton chase. The young deer cower in lonely place. Deep in her flowery den ; But, O, what's like the bonny face That smiles in yonder glen ? OH, DARK-EYED MAID OF PALESTINE. Frotn " Sottgs of Chivalnj," by T. 11. Bayly. Oh, dark-eyed maid of Palestine, Though thou hast set me free. Mistake me not — I cannot breathe Affection's vow to thee. The love that I can never feel My lip would scorn to feign, Then summon forth thy father's guard, And give me back my chain. Far in a land thou ne'er wilt view 1 left a gentle bride, I know that in my plighted vow Her fond heart will confide : She may be told that far away Her captive love was slain, She shall not hear that i was false. Then give me back my chain. I see a tear steal o'er thy cheek — My sentence I await — But now thy trembling finger points To yonder open gate ! Dark Maid of Palestine, I seek My plighted Bride again, And when we cease to pray for (hee. Oh, give me hack my chain. THE APOLLO. 95 rilE KIN(i f)F THE PROTESTANT ISLANDS. (M. Ilall). / By cheating the exciseman, As 1 am in duty bound,''' THE APOLLO. 103 Up acted on liis own advice, As folks are prone to Jo ; And he went the old way to work. To defraud the re^e-mie; The excisemen approved not his mode, (Pray where are they that will?) But they made a most confounded noise About his private still. They said, he'd been used to the bar. But he must not retrench ; So they bore him from his domicile. The bar, unto the bench. His temper then forsook him not, He there raised many titters, By saying bed tasted siceets of life. But now he'd tasted bitters. He at length petition'd Parliament, But they made a sad rout. And said, theij bad been taken i)i, So they wouldn't let him out' He daily now takes yards of tape, As calld in the slanc; school ; And as he lives within the Bench,- He lives out of all rule. THE TROUBADOUR FROM DISTANT LAND. Sung by Mr. Wood, at Covcnt Garden. From distant climes, a Troubadour, I make in every court my stay ; 'Neath rustic porch and silken dome, I tune my merry minstrel lay ; But most where love delights to dwell, 'Mid knights who sigh for lady's hand, They welcome with solt music's spell The Troubadour from distant laud. 104 THE APOLLO, Where nectar brims the rosy bowl. My soul in festive glee can join, And mellow ev'ry sparkling draught; Like sunshine on the sparkling vine ; But most where love eatwin.rs my brow With garlands wrought by lady's hand ; 'Neath moonlit bowers you're sure to find The Troubadour trom distant land. SO MANY CHANGES. An Original Comic Song, by IV. W. Wright. Tune— Good old days of Adam and Eve. I'LL try, I'll try to a tune that's old, sirs, Son^ changes new to you to unfold, sirs ; Then first of all for their such a fuss is, I'll tell you about these new Omnibusses, They look very odd, indeed it's no jest, sirs, They go with three horses which run abreast, sirs. The folks ride insid6 so they are much warmer. And as they're all out of sight they cheat the in- former. Oh yes, oh yes, indeed it strange is. Every day there should be so many changes. We were once protected by watchmen called, And the hour of the night they loudly bawled. But now we've police-men in their stead. Who make no noise when folks are a bed ; Yet the people felt very great alarm, sirs. And said, they are nothing but (jen c/' armes, sirs. With their shiny hats and shiny shoulders, I'm sure they'll never be takea for soldiers. Oh yes, &c. Once major actors thought much of their station. And to go to a small house was a degradation, THE APOLLO. 105 But tlie two great hoases now in London, By the badness of the times are nearly undone ; So some ot" the luojors who have got shiners, Have left their old abode to go to the minora. Where by their acting and pieces tunny. The miuors now draw all the money. Oh yes, &c. The New Post-office works are ended, 'Tis a much tiuer building than was intended. From which the mails are nightly started. From the old one the letters used to be carted ; And to some ol the stations 'twas such a way, It took the men nearly half the day, And from time to time the men got later, So now they are sent by the Accelerator. Oh yes, &cc. All down the Strand the houses are shaking, The directors are now sucli improvements making, To make it straight — take out the twist. So they have moved the Strand phrenologist ; Jjikewise Exeter 'Change, Menagerie, and all, sirs, And it has made a great change with all, sirs, BuL the owner 1 hope will sustain no loss, sirs. For Cross's menagerie is gone to Charing Cross, sirs. Oh yes, &:c. TILL DEATH. DEAR MAID, I'LL LOVE THEE. j4n Original Song, written by IV. H. Freeman. Dear maid, my heart and soul are thine. And though a host of friends ccmbiue, Their malice shall not move me : Though far apart as Pole from Pole, And foaming seas betwixt us roll. By heaven, 1 swear I'll love thee. By thy fair form, thy blooming youth. Those ruby lips, those eyes of truth, Which when 1 doubt reprove me. 106 THE APOLLO. Though seated on a monareh's throne, And India's wealth were all my own, i ne'er would cease to love tl»ee. Though poor and lowly blest with thee, I'd ne'er repine at destiny. Nor envy those above me ; , That thou'lt be mine alone, declare, And by my hopes of bliss I swear, Till death, dear maid, I'll love thee. MR. EYE, MR. ARM, AND MISS LEGG. An Original Comic Song,bii E. Mauser. Air — There's nae luck about the house. Of Mr. Eije, and Mr. Arm, A tale I have to tell. Who fell in love with sweet Miss Legg, Whose shape was passing well , Now Mr. Eije had lost an ar7n. There was no harm in thai. And Mr. Arm had but one etje, VV'as blind as any bat. Fol de rol, &e. Miss Legg she lost both Arm and Eye, Although no cripple she, I'll tell you how il came about, That's if you'll list to me; Oh, when to Eye she gave her arm, She'd cast at Arm her eye. Till both resolv'd that all or none. They'd have of Legg — or try. Fol de rol, &c. Tntnfvot to foot did Eye and Arm, Set ioe for this same Legg, THE APOLLO. 10< i'lil tlie police did tbein alarra, Aud carried era oflF i' fegg ; Theu Ei/e and Arm to justice went. And bound to keep the peace. And Legg has great cause to repent, This act of the police. Fol de rol, &c. For Eye his arm now never gives, 'Cause at Arm she casts her eye, And Arm his eye ne'er casts on her, Once bit they say twice shy ; Then Legg finding she had lost both. For either oft will sigh, Wish she'd the eye of Mr. Arm, Or ann of Mr. Eye. Fol de rol, &c. Thus then luy cr'qjpled story's done. So maidens pray take heed. And never smile on lovers two. Or both you'll lose indeed : Remember the fate of Miss Legg, Who lest both Arm and Eye, And from her folly let me beg, Amendment you will try. Fol de rol, &c. *^f~**^ THE SAPLING OAK. Sung by Mr. Foane. The sapling oak lost in the dell, Where entangled brakes its beauties spoil. And ev'ry iufant shoot repel, Droops hopeless o'er the exhausted soil. At length the woodman clears around. Where'er the noxious thickets spread, \ud high revi\ing o'er the ground. The forest's monarch lifts her head. 108 THE APOLLO. MORGAN RATTLER. (T. Hudson.) On ! tlie lasses o' Lunnon be sad wicked jades, All manners o' tricks by gosh they be up to 'em, And for cheating poor lads like o' I is their trades. And Twould puzzle the old one to' put a good stop to 'em. My Kate in the country is different quite. When I was at home, why 1 was her prattler, And I loved her sincerely from morning till night. And none was so happy as Morgan Rattler. 1 corned up to Lnunon, and th' very first day I met a fine lady, who ax'd me to walk wi* her. And said she wur frightful o' faintuig away ; I'll be dash'd if I wasn't afear'd for to talk wi' her. She begg'd instantly that a coach I would call. For nothing but home directly could settle her, And then she politely puU'd me in and all. Oh ! in what a sad pucker was Morgan Rattler. The coach then set off, and dash'd through thick and thin, The lady got better, and ax'd me to sup wi' her ; Thinks I, oh dear ! dear I she's for snaring me in, No matter what haps, I'll try and be up wi' her. Says I, "Madam Sly, I sees what you're up to, I'se awake to your tricks, though you're a sweet tattler. But all your fine fits, and your falntings won't do, — You've got the wrong person in Morgan Rattler." When she found me determined she flew in a rage. Left the coach, and then call'd me a brute and a boar too, sirs ; And iiald that I ought to be shut in a cage, For using a lady so vile — and much more too, sirs. THE APOLIO. iuij »// Fitzivilliam and Mr. iVuulds, at Vauxhall iitirttms. j4{r— Dsar creatures, we can't do without 'eni. Mr F. Oh, give me the country's sweet quiet. To breathe the pure air ever wholesome and free ; Far from the bustle, the racket, and riot Of vile London town, and contented I'd be. Mr. IF. Oh, give me the place where there's nothing but fun done. Racket and riot, confusion and unise; m3 '26 THE APOLLO. The charming — delightlul — the wonderful Loncli)n, The place oi all places for pleasures and joys. Tor/ether. (Oh.gl I Oh, gi ve me, 8ec. •^ ' i Oh, give me, &c. Mr. F. How healthy to get up each morn before sun- rise. To view the grand sight, and inhale the fresh air. Mr. W.ln London we do not before twelve or one rise, For sooner is vulgar f vow and declare. Mr. F. How pleasant the hare and the fleet hounds to follow. Well mounted, Mr. W. And find you're an hour too late. jMr. F. To gallop o'er. meadows, and hear the view halloo. Mr. W. And risk your neck breaking by leaping a gate. Tocjether. Oh, give me, &c. Mr. F. How calm are the pleasures of angling and fishing, Mr. W. Yes, stuck in one posture from morning till night ; The rod in your hand, silent waiting and wishin;:^, And once in five hours gettiug — Mr.F. What?— Mr. W. Why, a bite. Mr. F. But sometimes you'll own, by good luck we are hooking So fast, that the basket is soon fill'd com- plete ; THE APOLI.O. P27 And when we go home — 37;-. W. They are not wortli the cooking. Mr. F. But they are cook'd. Mr. W. And then they are not fit to cat. Together, Oh, give me, &c. Mr. F. Tell me in Loudon, how 'tis your time pasee.-*, Mr. W. It flies in a round of continued delights; Surrounded by numbers of beautiful lasses. Whose eyes, like the stars, twinkle bril- liant and bright. Mr. F. I'm told that you soon kill yourselves with your revels. Mr. W. We've balls and assemblies, the opera and play. At night with the bottle we drive ufl" blue devils. Mr. F. And get the black devil, the head-ache, next day. Together. Oh, give me, &c. Mr. TF.Then at a card party — happy and pleasant ; Such shuffling and cutting, and langliler and grin ; Compliments passing by all who are present. And all very happy. Mr. F. Vou mean al! who win. Mr. W. The ladies bedizen'd with trinkets and lockets ; The cash changing S'des like the cards which we deal. Mr. F. But how do you feel when you'\e emptied your pockets ? Mr. IF. Why that's a great bore, but 'lis very genteel. Together. Oh, give me, &.c. Mr. F. In the country we breakfast at six in the morning, Dine at twelve, and mayhap, about eight or nine sap. 128 THE APOLLO. Then go to rest. jy^_ (f^. All such old fashions scorning. We in town go to bed— jy/^, p^ At the time we get up. Jl/r. TF. We always are merry, by sweet fashion hurried, 'Tis life I my boy, life ! Mr. F. Oh, your pardon I crave ; I'm told that for certain, when e'en dead and buried, There's not one among ye can rest in your grave. Together. Oh, give me, &c. PART II. Mr. F. Oh, give me the country's sweet quiet. To breathe the pure air ever wholesome and free ; Far from the racket, the bustle and riot, 01 vile London town, and contented I'd be. Mr. W. Oh, give me the place where there's nothing but fun done, Racket and riot, confusion and noise ; The charming — delightful — the wonderful London, The place of all places for pleasures and joys. Together, Oh, give me, &c. Mr. F. If in tbe country you go to a party. To make yoarself happy you never can fail; Good humour surrounding — a good welcome hearty. Mr. W. Yes, stuff d with fat bacon, and drenched with strong ale. Mr. F. I own there's a difference that matter res- pecting, As a town party surely would soon make you feel j THE APOLLO. 1-29 Youcl be apt to think that your friends were neglecting. Because you know eating much is not genteel. Toyether, Oh, give nie, 8cc. Mr. F. Think of the pleasures to walk in a garden, The flowers all blooming-, -md nature so gay, Such joys are lasting. Mr. W. Oh, I ask your purdnn ; Flowers, though hloomiug, will soon fa»le away, Mr. F. The fragrance of flowers delights all our noses. Mr. W. Oh, dear me ! I always was fond of the smell : To Covent-garden I go for a pen'worth of roses. And that you know answers the purpose as well. Together. Oh, give me, &€• Mr. F. List to the sweet birds, so tuneful and happy ; What can compare with the notes of the lark ? E'en trees nod with pleasure — Mr. W. I may be a sappy ; But of trees all I want is the trees in the park. And as for the birds, which you call such line singing, By all refined ears 'tis turn'd up as a Ixire ; If I have music, oh, be my ears ringing. With the notes of xMiss Baton, I ask for no more. Toyether. Oh, give me. 8^.-. Mr. F. Now let us appeal to the company presrni. Mr. W. Tis useless our quarreling ; — ere wr .sit down. 130 THE APOLLO. Mr. F. Which of the two lives is really most pleasant A sweet country Hie. Mr. W. Oi* a gay life in town. I'm sure they all look as ifthey were of my side. Mr. F. On your siile, oh dear me, that never can be. Why look at the ladies, there's not one on thy side. Both. I think it is plain we shall never agree. Together. Mr. F. Oh, give me the Country's sweet quiet. To breathe the pure air ever wholesome and free 4 Far from the bustle the racket and riot. Of vile Loudon town, and contented I'd be. Mn. \V. Oh, give me sweet Loudon's sweet riot, Tu breathe West-end air ever wholesome and free ; Far from all heavy, dull, still life and quiet. Give me a town life, and contented I'd be. MIGHTY PRINCE, STAIN NOT YOUR GLORY. Sung by Miss H aliunde. Mighty prince, stain not your glorv, But with an attentive ear. Listen to my plaintive story, And in pity drop a tear. In a humble habitation. Far from envy, noise, and strife, Still contented with my station, I did pass my early life. There a youth, by music's power. Won my heart, — I blush'd in vain And from that bewitching hour, I have felt love's pleasing pain. THE APOLLU. Thus, the happiest child of nature, I was torn Iram those I love ; And cooderan'd, a wretched creature, Splendid misery to prove. Stain not, mighty prince, your glory, But let pity banish fear; And reward my plaintive story, With the tribute of the tear. I A <>**sr** THE AULD RAVEN; OR, REVENGE IS SWEET. An Original Recitation, recited by Mr, Bruce, of the Olympic Theatre. UxDER the arms of a goodly oak tree, There was of swine a large company ; They were making a rude repast. Grunting as they munch'd the mast. Then they trotted away ; for the wind blew high One acorn was left; no more could you spy. Next came a raven, who lik'd not such folly, He belonged, 1 believe, to the witch melancholy , Blacker was he than blackest jet, Flew low in the rain, hir feathers were wet. He pick'd up the acorn and buried it straight By the side of a river, both deep and great. Where then did the black-raveu go? He flew high, he flew low, Over hill, over dale did the black raven go ; Many autumns, many spri-ngs, Wenf he with wandering wings; Many summers, many winters — Indeed, I can't tell half his adventure.**. At length he returned, and with him a she ; And the acorn was grown to a large oak tree ; They built them a nest on the topmost bough, And young ones they had, and were jolly euow. 132 THE APOLLO. At length came a woodman in leatlicrn f>-ulse. His brow, like a penthouse, hung over bis eyes, He'd an axe in his hand, and he nothing spoke. But with many a hem. and many a stroke. At length he brought down the poor raven's own oak. His young ones were kill'd, for they could not depart. And his wife she did die of a broken heart. They chopp'd off its limbs, its boughs they did sever. And they floated it down on the course of the river ; They saw'd it to planks, its rind they did strip, And with that tree and others they built them a ship ; The ship it vras launch'd, but in sight of the land A tempest arose that no ship could withstand ; It bilg'd on a rock, the waves rush'd in fast. The auld raven flew round, and caw'd to the blast ; He heard the sad shriek of their perishing so:ils. They are sunk : o'er the topmast the mad water rolls. The raven was glad that such fate they did meet, They had ta'en his all, — and revenge! revenge is sweet ! THE LJTTLE MOUNTAINEER. Sung by Miss Faote. Good morrow to the morning new. The fields and flow'rets bright with dew ! Good morrow, shepherd lads, to you. Good morrow, maidens dear I * Good morrow to our holiday. And all who list my tuneful lay, Or join upon her merry way Your little Mountaineer! Lai de i a, &c. Look down on yonder valley, where The lifted garlands scent the air; And busy dames the feast prepare. With all its joyous cheer. THE APOl.LO. 133 Good morrow, stranjjer, kind and hiir ! Would vou Willi us the re\^l .slinrp. With licdrty welcome follow there Your little Mountaineer. Lai de ra, kc. For there, with dance and bridal song, 'Tis mine to lead the jocund tlironj;, W'here Carl, the hunter, hlitlie and \oiiug. Receives his Lena dear. Oh, happy, happy, may they be. Who knows what fate may next decree? Perhaps ere Iduj^ a chance for me. Your little Aiuuutaiueer. Lai de ra, he. DEATH AND THE DEVIL. An Original Comic Song, by G. W. Rivhardson. 7'u«e— Devil aud I ittle Mike, The Devil one day met Death, At the corner of Long-lane, With running was out of breath, For Death was his only aim ; He then np to him did stalk, VYhich made grim Death to tremble, To escape him, tried to walk, But foand the Devil too nimble. Ri ti lural, &c. The Devil exclaim'd in a tone. Which would have chill'd the noblest heart, " With me you now must come home, Or this cloven is my dart.'' Death thought this was monstrous bold, O'er him to use such power ; So told him he'd better hold, Or this was his fatal hour. Ri ti lural, &c. N 134 THE APOLLO. Now fhe coutest was so g;reat, Uetvvt-en these luonsfers of migbt. For a duel they both did wait, To decide it that verj night. The people that stood around, Fear'd ev'ry word the Devil spoke; His voice with terror did sound, So they soon found 'twas no joke. Ri ti lural, 8tc. They were both prepared with arras. The Devil he had his fork , He roar'd out his mighty alarms. And then up to him did stalk. Death tottering, held his glass. His scythe in the other hand. The Devil gave the first pass, And made Death further stand. Ri ti lural, &c. They fought so devilish hard, I thought Death must have ensued. But Death was a sly old card. And for many a life had sued ; All eyes with wonder did glare, To see the Devil fork each hone, But Death now bid him beware. Or he'd make him a powerless gnome. Ri ti lural, &c. We all pitied poor Mr. Death, For sickly he was I'm sure. He scarce had a whole bone left. When he sunk and was no more. But mark how the Devil was trick'd. He pocketed all his bones. They shaped — unmercifully kick'd. Till he gave some terrible groans. Ri ti laral, &c. THE AP(jLLO. I3S Now Death held the Devil laat. By the c<»llar of bis coat, For mercy, he cried at last, Till grim Death the Devil smote; He DOW left the Devil to die, Midst flames of sulphur burning, 'Twas then the general cry — He can't be more returning. Ri ti lural, &c. PUSH THE GROG ABOIT. (Dibdin.) '^TwAS Saturday night, the twinkling stars Shone on the rippling sea: No duty call'd the jovial tars ; The helm was lash'd a-lee. The ample can adorn'd the board ; Frepar'd to see it out, Each gave the lass that he ador'd. And push'd the grog about. And push'd, &c. Cried honest Tom, my Peg I'll toast, A frigate neat and trim. All jolly Porstraouth's favorite boast ; I'd venture life and limb, Sail seven long ^■ears, and neer see land, With dauntless heart and stout, So tight a vessel to command : Then push the grog about. Then push, Jtc. I'll give, cried little Jack, my Poll, Sailing in comely state. Top ga'nt-sails set, she is so tall She looks like a first-rate. Ah ! would she take her .lack in tow. 13C, THE APOLLO. No hotter birth I'd wish to know: 'J'hen push the grog aboyt. Then push, &c. I'll give, cried I, my charming Nan, Trim, baudsorae, neat, and tight; What joy, so neat a ship to man ! Oh ! she's my heart's delight. So well she bears the storms of life, I'd sail the world throughout, Brave every toil for such a wife : Then push the grog about. Then push, &.c. Thus to describe Poll, Peg, or Nan, Rach his best manner tried ; Till snmmon'd by the empty can. They to their hammocks hied : Yet still did they their vigils keep, TbougV the huge can was out; For, in soft visions, gentle sleep Still push the grog about. Still push, S:c. THE OMNIBUS! An Original Comic Song, uritten by IV. H. Freeman. Come, don't be delaying, no longer we're staging, The Omnibus now is ready to start ; ]\lake haste and jump in it, we're off in a minute, Our horses so fresh and our carriage so smart. Let coachmen revile us, in hopes to beguile us Of passengers, we only smile at their rage ; 'Tis much more secure, and more genteel, Ira sure. Than venturing down by the Kensington stage. Spoken. j Knightsbridge I Kensington! Hammer- smith! — Now. sir, we start directly. — Push up, if you please. Push up ; confound it, fellow, you'll push me down if you don't take care. Take air ; — THE APOLLO. 1.^7 I takes plenty of that 'ere, sir; goes io the ronniry and back five or six times a day, sir. I suv, Minier, is your vebicle popular? No, sir, it's oak. Non- sense! — wheres the coachnaau ? — is he ade^iuate ? No, sir, he's a cockney. Pshaw ! that lellows a fool. Sir? — ob, talking to yourself. I suppose. Prav, what's your fare to Hammer.smith ? One shilling;, sir. Well, tbal's werry reasonable though. Oh crikeys ! look bere ; — here's the new Dominoes going to start. Oh my ! here's a lark ! the outside places are all inside, the side is at the back, and the fore horse is in the middle. It's werry reasonable too for all that. I say, Jack, you're a French scholar; so yea know you can read Latin. What does they mean by Omnibus? I'll tell you. Bill — it means — Omni, it's all my eye, bus, and Betty .Martin. Ah, it's werry reasonable though for all that. .Sare. I sail trouble you to give me as much ride a.s sail be possible for one suits. I don't know what you call a sow, Monseer; but I'll take you for a hocf- Sare, wbat sare, you take me for one hog, sare! diahle ! Sacre mon de dieu ! Sick with nothing to do ! well, that s bad, to be sure. — \Vell, come, I II take y<'ii for a tanner then. .Ah, that's werry reasonable though. Sare, you are vara much large big impertinent scoundrel. — I am not tanner, sare — Cot tara I I am un gentilhomme ! — and, sare, to punish you, I sail hire all your carriage for de whole day, and uobtxly sail ride with him but myself — not any at all. W ell. that's werry unreasonable though. Fleasf, sir, mother says will you take me to Knightsbridge, and give me change for half-a-crown ? and mother will pay you the half-crown next week. Well, that's werry reasonable though. Now then, going down ! yahip! So don't be delaying, &.-<. In this carriage of fashion we merrily dash on, The stages endeavour to pass us iu vain ; N 3 138 THE APOLLO. How neat the inside is, how pleasant the ride is. Of jarring or jolting no one can coraplain. Whilst punning and joking our laughter's provoking. The time so agi eeablv passes away ; We sit so in clover, the journey is over, Belure we suppose we are even half" way. Si'OKEN.] Well, how werry pleasant this ride is. Though it's rather warm, I think. Yes, but it's werry reasonable though. 1 declare when one gets out ot t»>wn the air is as sharp as a needle. Now, i wish, INlr. Buckram, you'd sink the shop. Well, I will, lovee. Why, dear me, how odd ; — there's three windows on this side, and only two on that. Oh yes, there is, sir; hut that lady's bonnet hides the third. Bless rae, sir, you are werry rude, you ought to be sent to a Mac-Adamy to larn politeness and hon tonfjue. He'd better come to you, lovee — you could larn him the long tongue ; it often makes me as hot as a goose, and all of a twist. There you go again, man — why don't you sink the shop? 1 will, lovee. Oh crikey! pa; look there — there's a man on horseback, stuck up there. Yes! my dear, that's Charing Cross — that's the statty of" Oliver Cromwell, who was beheaded by King Charles, at Whitehall, because he w anted to cabbage the throne. There you go again, Air. Buckram. \ can't help it — it pops out unavares, love. 1 wonder how they came to call this thing Omnibus. I'll tell you, sir — before it was named, a young lady was going on a visit, and get- ting into the carriage, a certain article of dress came off— I allude to the climax — the catastrophe — the tail of a lady's dress. — She cried out in French, — Omi-bus ! — which means, oh, my bustle ! — That, &ir, gave this carriage its name. Well, come, that's werry reas(»nable though. I say, sir, are you fond of Prince's Mixture ? No ! Bolongara ? No ! nor BuU-aud-Mouth either. Oh, ^Blackguard, I see. THE APOLI.O. IMO Yes! and if von don't mind, I'll yive you sfnir Rappee. Sir, 111 thank you not lo push my wife, it you please ; — she sils werry uncomfortable. Why, sir, she ought to pay double; her sleeves lake up as much room as two people. Dear me ! I deriare here's a library here. — Pray, maam, are you f. nd of reading? VVerry, sir.; hut I likes history best; do you know, I've read "The History of Robinsr)n Crusoe," "Little Red Riding-hood." and "Cinder- ella." Ah, sir, you'll find -my wife as sharp as a bodkin. Sink the shop, ^Ir. Buckram. Sink me if I can, lovee. How do you like the Spectntor, ma'am? Why, sir, I likes 'tutors very well; but thinks 'em best when they arn't speck'd. Well, that's werry reasonable though. There's the brazen Achilles! Ay, he arn't half so brazen as them as put him there. Now then, here we are! jump out. So don't be delaying, &c. DEAR LADY, YOUR EYES ARE SO KIIJ.INC Hung bfi Mr. if est em. Music published by U. Eirau«, 146, Strand. Dear lady, your eyes are so killing, So loving so bright and so blue ; What mortal could eer be unwilling. To linger for ever with you ? rd linger like beauty when glowing. With a wish that's express'd in her eye.s ; I'd linger like Phosbus when throwing His last setting beam from the skies. Dear lady, &c. rd linger like age that is wasting. Like youth o'er the cup of delight ; I'd linger like twilight whfo caslin^ Us last pensive look at the uiglil ; 140 THE APOLLO. I'd lins^er like lovers when parting-^ When tlie world is iu peace and at rest; When their eyes their sweet glances are darting, And their hearts to each other are prest. For lady,&c. ■»^-»^*-f OF A' THE QUARTERS OF THE WARL' An Original Song, written by J. J, Wilson. Air — Of a' the airts. Of a' the quarters o' the warl', I dearly lo'e the North, For there the bonnie lassie lives, The lass o' modest worth. In bonnet straw sbe leulcs sae braw, I ween there is na better, An' gin awhile ye catch her smile. Your hearts she'll fairly fetter. On flowery braes, in russet claes, VVi' winsome grace she plays her. There's na' a tongue frae auld to young. That wad na deign to praise her. The glittering lace an' painted face. May hide a ranc'rous feature. An' tho' ador'd will ill accord, « VVi' ony charms o' nature, When simmer sun his course has run. An' sunk upo' the billow. Her shining e'e is lighting me, To youder drooping willow. Whar burnie rins deep owre the Hms, W'i' mony an angry sugh. An' fairies play upo' the brae, Bedeck'd wi' violets blue. THE APOLLO. There happy rove in peace an' love, While nature nods assent, An' homeward stray at break o' da), \Vi' naething to repent. LITTLE MIKE'S WONDERFUL FEATS. An Original Comic So}i^, by Mr. M. Hall, Author of " The Devil and Utile Mike." 4c. Tune— Psddy's Blunders. Little Mike he was born about six in the morning. Sure me and my mother was there at the time ; And while I am sinuing, pray don't you he scorning. As all his adventures I've made in a rhyme. His sister and brother first said to his mother, A wonder he'll be when a man he is grown: Without hesitation he'll please all the nation. When first he was born he could toddle alone. With his rub a dud, row de duw, Fife away all the dav, Fillillo, thafll do, Cut away, Mike. He first took a walk to liis granfather Connor's, Who lived about six hundred miles out ot tox^n I I'm teJllno: no lie. for it's true on my honour, [ cant tell you where, but a place of renown. He walk'd there in an hour, and lifted a tower. Then quickly return'd with a church in his lap, And sat down by the fire, as grand as a 'squire. With a large wooden spoon eat a pail-full ot pap. With a rub a dub. 5^c. Next day in the city he walkd out a riding. A regiment of soldiers he had at his call. Then drinking strong whiskey he next took a prulo in. And drank fifty irallons in no time at all. 142 THE APOLLO. He liiid a most beautiful tongue for to talk with, CJreat wonders he did. sure and tiiat without doubt, lie the Monument took as a stick for to walk with, And balanced St. Paul's on the tip of his snout. VVith his rub a dub, &,c. He next advertised for a place of employment. As older he grew, and was nearly a man; For like other folks he was fond of enjoyment, To live and be jolly was always his plan. He very soon got such a good situation. Three thousand a year, which was very good pay. And that he received from the heads of the nation. To build up new churches just three in a day. VVith his rub a dub, &g. He next made a contract with butcher and baker. For all they could bake, and all they could kill. He nexer invited oiie single partaker, it scarce was enough his own belly to &11. He was a great eater, as I am a sinner, Although thought a man he was only a youth ; Yet a whole batch of bread he'd consume lor hi» dinner, And stuff a Cow's tail in the hole of his tooth. VVith his rub a dub, &c. One shining night as he dream'd he was flying. Some comical thoughts they came in his head ; For twenty miles round you might hear him crying, He woke in a iVight^ and he thought he was dead. He was dreaming, he said, as he swam in a boat, sir. He eat all the men-of-war-ships for a spree; And to wash them down, as they stuck in his throat, sir. He drank all the water there was in the sea. With his rub a dub, &c. He had a relation who gave him a station. To kill all dead horses that wanted to die; THE APOLI.O. I 1,^ And when lie was done, for iiis dwn recre;ill((n. He washed down the house wilh a tear from his »\.- Next day little Mike met with such a disaster, As he was a walking along up Cheapside, A little old woman she pave him a plaister. He kicked a few times and instantly died, With his ruh a duh, &c. THE BUTTERFLY WAS A GENTLEMAN. The butterfly was a gentleman, Of no very good repute ; And he roved in the sunshine all day long, Ii) his scarlet and purple suit : And he left his lady wife at home, In her own secluded bower ; Whilst he like a bachelor flirted about, With a kiss for every flower. The butterfly was, &i His lady wife was a poor glowworm, And seldom from home she'd stir ; She lov'd him better than all the world. The' little he car'd for her; Unheeded she passed the day — she knew Her lord was a rover then ; But when night came on she lighted her lamp, To guide him over the glen. The butterfly was, &c One night the wanderer homeward came. But he saw not the glowworm's ray ; Some wild-bird saw the neglected one. And flew with her far away ; Then beware, ye butterflies, all beware. If to you such a time should come. Forsaken by wandering lights, you'll wish Yoa had cberish'd the lamp at home. The butterfly was. &c 144 THE APOLLO. FROM r.REAT LONDONDERRY. A favor if e Comic So)ig. Tune— Paddy O'Carroll. Fkom great Lnndooderry to London so merry, jVly (»\vn natty self in a waofgon Jid ride; In London so frisky, folks ride in a whiskey, At Connaught they carry their whisky inside. 1 jump'd from the waggon and saw a Green Dragon, I spied a Blue Boar when I tiirn'd to the south : At the Swan and two Throttles I tippled two bottles, And bother'd the beef at the Bull and the Mouth. Ah ! Paddy, my honey ! look after your money. 'Tis all botheration from bottom to top ! Sing didoroo daizy, my jewel be aizy, This London, agrah ! is the devil's own shop. The great city wax-work was all a mere tax-work, A plan to bamboozle me out of my pelf; Says I, Mrs. Salmon, c'up with your gammon, Your figures are no more alive than yourself. F ax'd an old quaker the way to Long-acre ; With thee and with thou he so bother'd my brain, After fifty long sallies, through lanes and blind alleys, I found myself tottering in Rosemary-lane. Ah! Paddy, &c. At night, so silly ! along Piccadilly 1 wandered, when up comes a beautiful dame ; Huzza ! says the lady, how do you do, Paddy ? — Says I, pretty well, raaara, ! hope you're the same, A great hulking fellow, who held her umbrella. Then gave rae a terrible thump on the nob : She ran away squalling; — I, watch! watch! was bawling, — The devil a watch was there left in rav fob. Ah! Paddy /&c. THE APOLLO. "A lady pass'd by me full dresj'd la a beautiful puce-colour'iJ saraenet.' THE STRICTEST PROPRIETY. (r. Huds'ju.) A favorite Comic Song, sung by Mr. (J. Boynf\, i«ir— Paddy O'Conuor. Man's led by the powers above. All through life love is a lottery, And by the powers of love Many a man's heart is got awry- I fond of the ladies was ever, Though I never ran after variety ; Alade it my constant endeavour To stick to the strictest propriety. One day through the Strand as I pressd, l,stoop'd down my shoe-string to fastfu it A lady pass'd by me full dress 'd In a beautiful piu e coloiu'd sarcenet. 7. o 14(i rilE APOLLO. Straw bonnet and ribbons and feather. Triniin'd in all fasljion'a variety, l^lefrant, but altogellier Still with the strictest propriety. Struck with her sweet charms, oh dear rae ! Towards her I made my approaches ; First of all she did not hear me. All through the noise of the coaches ; And as my love did not get colder. Thinks T, egad I'll have a try at ye ; So I gave her a tap on the shoulder, But 'twas done with the strictest propriety. At first she seem'd as if shock'd, And my impudence, said was astonishing; Insisted that merely I raock'd. And 1 ought to have public admonishing. As she was going'to the play, She did not want ray society ; So stately she. then walk'd away, 'Twas done with the strictest propriety. No sooner was she out of sight. Than I felt in a queer situation ; f follow'd, I don't think 'twas right. But we all sin the more for temptation. My heart in my bosom was sad. My head swam just like inebriety ; And yet every thought that I had, Was kept in the strictest propriety. I soon overtook her, and then Cupid I pray'd he would blind her, I said somethiag to her again. And her answer was certainly kinder. To meet her next day then 1 planned.. She said, i agree then to quiet ye ; She gave me a squeeze of the hand, But 'twas done with the strictest propriety. THE APOLLO. 14; in my heart she bad made a deep wduiui Her image I would not have baninh d. But when I got home Vod ( I'ound, My watch and my money had vanish d. I thought of her all the next day, I thought ot her charms and society ; If she stole my watch, 1 must say — 'Twas done with the strictest propriety. HEY! DANCE TO THE FIDDLE AND TABOK. A favorite Duet, *«wg by Afr. Harl>>i nni. )Ht^ /.on, in " lA)ck and Key,'' at Driirn Laut ihcatr^. Mr. H. Hey ! dance to the fiddle and tabor. And none shall have reason to laugh at his iieig*hbour, For our wedding shall follow close alter. Fal, lal de ral, lal I Wits and philosophers, Scholars and conjurors, Statesmen and ministers. Judges and counsellors, Doctors and Barristers, Bishops and chancellors, Grand dukes and emperors. Mitred and crowned. All have danced to the fiddle and tabor. Fal, lal de ral. lal ! ^Miss L. Hey ! dance to the fiddle and tabor ! Welcome each lass, and shake Lauds with each neighbour. How little care 1 for their laughter. Fal lal deral lal : Sunday and holyday. Working and wearing day Feasting and jolly day. Singing and Mierr\ da\. 148 THE APOLLO. Uainy or fair the day, Never know care-a-day, Happy we'll every day live the year round, ijancing^ oft to the fiddle and tabor. ^ Fal, lal de ral, lal ! Mr. H. I'm master, and rule the house and table. Miss L. I'm mistress, and you may rule me if you're able. Mr. H. Who master, Miss L. Who mistress, Foth. We'll settle soon after. But now we'll sing, fal, lal de ral, lal! Mr. H. I'll make you jealous, and romp with the petticoats. Miss L. I'll kiss the fellows, and flirt with the pretty coats. Mr. //. I'll not submit to it — Miss L. Yes, you'll submit, Both. Spite of your wit^ To it. I'll keep my ground. Fal. lal dc nil. lal ! DIALOGUE BETWEEN THE DRAGON ON BOW CHURCH AND THE GRASSHOPPER ON THE ROYAL EXCHANGE.* Original, by W- H. Freeman. Sung by Mr. Baddeivay, at the Royal Puvilion Theatre. One night I heard this dialogue strange, •As I did homeward wag on, 'Twixt the Grasshopper on the Royal Exchange And Bow Church steeple Dragon. The Dragon seemed in monstrous rage, And really quite unruly, \Vhilst t'other tried his wrath to assuage^ And bade him argue coolly. • Copyright., THE APOLLO. I jo Says the Dragon in h fury, to quarrel ! assure w-u, I really am extremely loth ; fiut to see such alteration, throughout the nation, it fills me with vexation, yes, and provokes my wrath. .>ays the Grasshopper, stay, Mr. Dragon, I pray, don't go on that way, although I admit it strange is ; Fut in days gone by, they did prophecy, that whm you and I together should meet, whoever might live to seat, there should he very wonderful changes. One night I heard, N^c. Says the Dragon, the fashions, put me in a passion, the dresses folks wear, are enough to srart anv decent body that's plain and neat ; Each lady, tie on it, wears such a large bonnet, 'tis useless now for me to look below, for I caut see what passes in the street. Says the Grasshopper, tri e, I as well as you, lament that too, and to see it my heart sadly grieves : For almost every day, I hear the merchants say, they're c|uite out of stuff, and can't get enough, so muih is used now for their sleeves. One night I heard, ^c- Says the Grasshopper, oh dear ! I can see very clear. of every old friend there'll soon be an eud, for the sake of pleasing our betters; Already for one, there's the Post-ofiice gone, that lor many a year, has stood so near, and now I under stand, all the way to St. Maitin-le-grand, folks bave to go with their letters ; I see nothing but ruin, there's Fleet Market goinjf, poor Fishmongers Hall has had a terrible fall. and you know very soon London Bridge will come down, to make way, at least so they 8«v. tor one more new and pretty ; o 3 1.^0 THE APOLLO. 'Bout Kxeter Change, I'm almost deranjjetl, my grief 1 can't smother, I look'd upon him as my brother, he's eiitirelv gone, there's not e'en a stone, now to be seen, of' where he has been, I'm sure for his sake, ray heart I shall break, for 1 think it's a shame and a pity. One night I heard, &c. Says the Dragon, our woes increase, there's the New Police, heaven preserve us, only see how they serve us, what a pretty set, in time we shall get, as sure as I'm on this steeple, all the worst of people, they into the city are driving; The watchmen they tell us, unfortunate fellows, without any doubt go wandering about, it makes me weep, they're like lost sheep, they're half of 'em starving, and can't earn a farthing, tis plain Mr. Peel for their sorrows don't feel, and stealing is the only trade that's thriving. Says the Grasshopper, I'm ashamed, that it should be named, but the coats I declare, of half the clerks are threadbare, for things are so bad, there's nothing new to be had, yet alteration never stops ; Upon my word, 'tis very absurd, though times are so hard, turn where you will, they're building still, and now 'tis said, they're a going to build a new arcade, but my opinion's this, it wouldn't be much amiss, if they customers made, and foutid more trade, instead of their making more shops. One night I heard, &c. Says the Dragon, I shall go into fits, or for ought I know lose my wits, for times are so changed, every one seems deranged, and for speculation and alteration, every body's finger itches ; Such things shouldn't be, but for ought I can see, worse we couldn't be, but it might be as well, for anything I can tell, if they'd let the ladies wear the breeches. THE APOLLO. )r,T Says the Grasshopper, hold, yon morlal no hohl, con- found the clowD, has been taking down all ww have said, and I almost dread, we shall both be sent to Bridewell ; Tm rather in a fright, so Mr. Dragon, gotid ni;Tl,t their power we might defy, for we're already so high, they can't take us up, but through \ on rlown, they may take us down, yes, down for a libel. One night I heard, &c. THE THEATRICAL TOAST. Air — Mere's to the inaideu of bathful fifteen. Herl's to dear Vestris's sparkling dark eye, Here's to fair Humby's, a blue one, Here's to plump Chester's, of exquisite dye, And brighter we'd toast if we knew one. Fill to each lass, Let the toast pass, I warrant 'twill prove an excuse for the glass. Here's to Miss Sraithson's chaste bosom of snow, Here's to Josephine's leg, whicli so neat is. Here's to Malibran's lip, whence rich melodies fl And to Love, whom to hear a rich treat is. Fill to each, iv ow, Here's to the brilliant, the beautiful Yates, Here's to our own Kelly — Fanny — Here's to Kate Stephens, the sweetest of K.ites. And to Cawse, who's as pretty as any. Fill to each. f^r. Here's to the Trees, who so deeply take root. There are two, and a treasure is either; Here's to the gleaner of witchery — Foole, Nrtw a bumper— we'll toast them trgelhcr Fill lo ♦■ath. 5ci 15-2 THE APOLLO. CI' I'll) AND PSYCHE. (W. Kiiowles.) Muiit pulili<.heil by \V. Georjje, mrner of St. Brule's Avenue, Fle«t J-t. Once within a lovely bower, - Cupid chanc'd to stray. There by magic spell be found, He in rosy chains was bound, • Fresh and sweet as May ; Elves and fairies danc'd in shade, Pleasd to see him captive made. Cupid every effort tried, Freedom to regain. Till, array'd in beauty bright, Psyche bless'd his ravish'd sight, Mistress of the chain. Then he cried " I'll ne'er be free, JjCt me ever live with thee." THE CHAPTER OF ACCIDENTS. Sung h\j Mr, Wilkinson. I'lf, tell you of sad accidents a long and dismal chapter. For if bad luck ever had a form, they to my back have strapp'd her ; I never once a wooing went in all my woeful life, sir. Or ten to one but 1 had got Miss Fortune for a wife, sir. Oh, oh, oh! When I was young, as I have heard say, they never used the ladle Without they burnt my infant throat, or else upset the cradle ; Once when a boy, on going io school as gay as any fairy. While looking up at a large crov*', I tumbled down an area. " Oh, oh, oh ! THE APOLLO. 15;^ One (Jay at play my teacliei cried, niiml what youre with that bull aljout, So taking care to strike it low, I knnck'd mv niu5ter'» eye-ball out ; And being frighten'd, tried to find my way out bv a shorter cut. Bat running down a flight of steps, I Tell into a water butt. Oh. oh. oh ! Without mislortunes one whole day I thought good luck complying, 1 went to bed so light of heart, f dreamt that I whs flying; Then up I got, resolved to sing with angels fair a mass on high, Threw up the window, out I jumpd into a mudcart passing by. Oh, oh. oh ! Beneath a scaffold walking once, with Fribble and his daughter. In looking up, plump on my head came down a l.cd of mortar ; A voice above cried, "Mind below!" to run I tri;i tell me.uiy jewel, how often do I flog you ? Every day, sir. Can't you say i> alone? Yes, sir. Goon. I can't, sir. Arrah! what s^a: am I of? Faith! sir, I don't know: you know better than I, why do you ask ? Because I want to know. She-sQX, sir. No. He, sir. E. that's right, my boy, go on, what's next? I can t tell ; yes, sir, I can, F. Bravo ! go on. I can't, sir. What does carman Pat say to his horse' Gee. Thunder, now. Can't you say (7 without Thunder, now^ Yes, sir : Gee. a' no thunder, now. Go on. I can't, sir. Now, tell uie, how many of you learn at my academy? Each one of us. Can't too way H, and not one of us ? Yes. sir, each, and not oi».« of us. An', by the holy poker! I'll make each of you remember it, or, like the great actor ou the stage S. R 18:2 THE APOLLO. used to Hwy to the Munstcr man, I'll fill your bones full of lis {aches), and, by the powers ! that will be one way to make you a man of letters. Then success to M'Caster, the Irish schoolmaster. For sure, such a pastor, the world never saw ; And long life to the dry land of th' emerald island. Faith, but I love you ! och, Erin-go-bragh ! Though Den was a gen'us, I must say between us, He was not a Venus, in shape or in air; For Mrs. Nature, when she made the teacber. Did not for each feature take at all any care : His eye was a shew one, bis nose was a blue one. His mouth was a true run from ear te ear; Yet vanity drove him — like many above him. If folks did not love him, he would make them fear. Spoken. J Master Felix, come and go on with your lesson What's next to H? I don't know. You don't know ! can't you tell me what your old aunt's got by the side of her nose? A carbuncle, sir. And what else? A long bristle, sir. What else? Oh! it's an /, sir. -Aye, that,'s right, go on. I can't, sir. Can't you tell how your mother opens the door? Puts her finger in the hole, sir. Arrah ! what does she lock it with? A key with a lucky-stone tied to it, sir. Can't you say K without the lucky-stone? /Ce^, and no lucky-stone. Goon. I can't, sir. What measure is that next to the yard? Yarc?, sir, the ])ig-sty, sir. Arrah ! what letter's that a yard and a fjuarter l(»ng? An ell, sir. h, an' by the hoakey ! such a decent sized one requires a whole sheet to write it upon. Go on ; what's next to L? H-ll I a school. HIT. Nonsense ! what letter ? I don't know, .sir. Can't you tell me what your mother does with vour shirts? Shirts, I've got none, sir. Whatdoes she do with your father's then? Pawn them, sir. For shamC; Felix ! don't yoji expose your relations. THE APOLLO. |S3 she only hnds them to your uncle. What dm-N she do when she makes them? Hvin, sir. M. thii\ true; go on. I can't. Which of my TowIh lay iLi. large duck eggs ? That's the cock-a-doodlc-doo nir. Cock-a-doodle-doo! what's the cock-a-d(»otlle tl«K»"n wife? Hen, sir. A*, good, go on; whafs next'' \ can't say that, sir. You can't? I'll bring it out of vdu, my boy; take that thump. Oh! 0, I tlmn^lit I coulil bring it out; now wipe your nose, and tell me what's the next one? P Q, sir. That's ri;i;ht. my boy, always mind your P's and Q'r, and then you may go and sit down to sing, Success to M'Caster, &c. Our hero, M'Caster, the wise Irish pastor, A shocking disaster did meet in his youth ; For fighting a duel with Paddy O'lVuwel, A shillelah cruel, knock'd out ev'ry tuolh Their shillelahs were oaken, a word was not npi)k«'ii, Till one leg was broken, by Paddy to two ; I'at then beat no further, for Den hollow'd murther ! And swore he was kilt from his hat to his shoe. Spoken.] Master Felix O'Brian, come and begin the end of your lesson. Where did I leave you ? At the P's and Q's, sir. Well, now come f>arL and go forivard ; that's the way to get on, my boy. What's next to Q? P. sir. What else ? I don't know, sir. What did the justice put your father in ' The stocks, sir. And what else? The army. sir. And what's the first letter of army ? Ar, sir. Good, go on. I can't, sir. What is that like a pot-hooL and hanger. That's your left hand leg. sir. Leit hand leg, arrah ! then what's my left hand K'g \\^f * A crooked S, sir. Go on. I can't, sir. What dora your mother drink out of the tea-pot (fn a mornings " Whiskey, sir. What else, at breakfast ^ Tea dusl. sir. Arrah ! can't you say T without dust. m» «i should be? Yes. sir, Tea without J"ht ? 1 want to make my master give me a character. Oh! take mine, I want to disjiose ol" it. And he detains a pelisse of mine, sir. Then go to a pelisse (police) office. My name's IJlubber, sir, when did you say I was to come? Thursday morning at nine, I wish you'i take an answer. If you please, sir, can I have a summons for two-pence? No; sixteen-pence. I mean, sir, can I summons a gentleman vhatowesme two-pence? [ keeps a chandler's shop ; and it's for a ha'penny bundle of wood, a ha'porth of Scotch snuff, and a penny middling candle. I've called en him ninety nine times and can't get my money, so I think it is time 1 brought him here. Well, sir, do you mean to let me have my summons or not? Y.)U must wait your turn, sir. Then I shall return, sir, and you may depend upon it 1 shall report you to the residing majesty. That gentleman's gone off without making his report. My name's Blubber, sir, when did you say I was to come ? Thursday morning, nine ; very odd you can't take an answer. I'll come, sir. Now go, sir. Pray, sir, how much may a summons come to ? Sixteen pence, sir. Can't you take a shilling ? Well, sir, what n^me do you wish to summons ? I've forgot it, sir. Then go home and recollect it. Can I take a summons for a man if I don't know where he lives ? 1 should think not. I wish you would not keep pushing against me so. It warn't me. 1 say it vas, and if you does it again, I shall just take the liberty of pulling that red nose of your's. You'd hum your fingers at that, my boy, so you'd better keep off. My name's Blubber, sir, what time did you say I was to come ? Thursday morning, nine ! very odd you can't take an answer. I wants some of your advice, sir. I'd advise you to be off then THE APOLLO. 195 i'(»r 1 can't get on while you keep interrupting so. Did you say nine o'clock, sir, T'U come, for — The place of al! places, for hearing the cases Disputed with grace, is a summoning court. Now Thursday appearing, the grand day for hearing, Such fun and such jeering was ne'er heard before. The crier loud calling, the officers bawling. Do stop that child's squalling, or go to ilie door. I'm in a great harry, oh ! I'm in a flurry, This racket will worry me out n( ray life. Do call on my suit, sir, this debt I dispate, sir. And soon shall confute, sir, that man and wife. Spoken.] Pray don't crowd in so ; gentlemen, you must wait till your name's calTd. — Siieiice. My name's Blubber, sir, you told me to hn here this morning at nine o'clock. Oh I yes J re"r^llect telling you very well, Mr. Blubber ; sit down till you*re called Officer, call William Wilkins. U'hat have you got for dinner? Very strange you will always he think- ing of eating, I told you to call William Wilkins. — Well, sir, what are you ? A wet nurse, sir. A wet nurse ? No, a witness, sir. Oh ! go on. — Silence ! silence ! Oh ! I say Tom, who's that Jittle fat man in the pulpit there a laughing? Hes the crier. .My name's Blubber, sir, I wish you'd call my name. Be quiet, Mr. Blubber. — Silence. — VVell, good woman, what's your name ? Mary (irace, your vorship. Oh ! you'e one of the graces. Yes, your vorship, and sixty-three years of age. What are you? A vasher- voman, yoijr vorship. How can yoa pay this money ? Sixpence a veek, your vorship. I won't take sixpeuee a week, sir; let her drink less gin and pay me. Lord bles.s me, J only takes it in moderation, and yo»ir vorship knows that an old vashervoman can't do vlth- out a drop of the cretur, now and then. — Ood h\f»s the parliament for giving us imperial, 1 .-iay. You s 2 190 THE APOLLO. must pay a shilling a week. Shilling a week. Goon — Silence — be quiet there, !\lr. Botber'em, will you. I am quiet. Benjamin Blubber ? Here. Matthew Muttonfat? Here. What's your debt for Mr. Blub- ber ? Why, sir, 1 am a talhjw-chandler by trade ; I was going along Tottenham Court Road the other day and bought a sholdcr of mutton of this Mr, Mutton- fat, and when I got it home I found it smelt so strong it must have been kept a. week. Why did you net smell it in the shop, you carried your nose with you, I suppose. Yes, sir, but I carried the smell of the tallow with me too, and 1 thought it was that. Now, Mr. Muttonfat, what do you say to this? W^hy I shan't say much about it — the weather's werry hot. and mayhap it mought smell abit, so I don't mind paying him half if he likes to take it. Well, I don't mind, for I don't like to be troublesome. Silence, silence — go on there. — Sarah Sniggle, Here. Peter Quibble. Here. What is your debt for, Sarah Snig- gle ? Vashing and needle-work, sir. What do you say to it, Mr. Quibble? I say, sir, that I have come prepared to resist this most enormous demand, as us gentlemen of the profession have been so imposed upon of late, I'll make a terrible example of this abominable snuff-taking old washer-woman ; now with permission, submission, and so on, I shall interrogate her. — Pray how many shirts do you say you wash'd ? One, sir, you know you've got no more. No, I did not mean that — for how many times washing do you charge? Nineteen, sir. You firsted that shirt? Yes, sir. Now on your oath, woman, — did you second that shirt '! I did, sir. Now 1 will contend and will prove that the shirt was sent home half wash'd, that ray cravats had nearly half an ounce of hithy Scotch snuff on them, and that according to law, and justice, and equity, and so on, she is entitled to no more than one half her claim, and so on. This poor woman may sew on, and wash on, ttjjall eternity, THE APOLLO. 197 and j;et nothitjg tor her labour^ according^ to your account — Vou must pay the money. I shall not, sir, 1 shall appeal. Silence, silence — go on there. Ah ! you nasty huzzy, go home and mend your stockings, do look at the taters in 'em. I'm not like you, you ialse swearing creature, I'll parsecnte >ou for parjury. I wiil. Oh ! my eye. Bill, here's a mill, here's a mill — ^theres one down — and there's the other tread- ing on him — then it's a treading mill — well I likes this, for — The place of all places^ &c. THE SOLDIER'S TEAR. Sung by Mr. IVood. [^pox the hill he turned to take a last fond look Of the valley and the village church, and the cottage by the brook ; He listen'd to the sound so familiar to his ear, And the soldier lean'd upon his sword, aad wip'd awa\ H tear. Beside that cottage porch a girl was on her knees, vShe held aloft a snowy scarf, which flatter'd in the breeze ; She breathed a fond pray'r, which he then could not hear — But he paus'd to bless her as she knelt, and wip'd away a tear. He turn'd and left the spot — oh ! do not deem him weak. For dauntless was the soldier's heart, though tears were on his cheek ; Go, watch the foremost ranks in danger's dark career. Be sure the hand most daring there has wip d away a tear. s 3 108 THE APOLLO. iMERT ME THIS EVENING ALONE. A idebrated Parody, sun^ by Mr. Beckwith, in " Black. Eyed Sukey.'* iating chapel. Pull away, yeo, ho ! The next day they for his corpse JId poke, But only found a lump of coke. Ri foddy, &c. Now ever since the fishes stink, And all the salmon's left the Thames river; Its water is not fit to drink. Full away, heo, ho ! And all the fishermen poor Jack condemns. For spoiling of the river Thames. Ri foddy, &u. BEWARE! BEWARE! Sung by Miss Helme, in "The Forest Oracle." Beware — beware ! lest virtue's frown Should bring remorse or grief; My wrongs will call an angel down, To give roy heart relief, No guilt like his who virtue's form Assumes but to betray ; And he, who guides the whirlwind's storm. Will render dark his day ! THE SAILOR'S CONSOLATION. Sung by Mr. Howell. Tune— Bay of Bisc«y. One night came on a hurricane. The sea was mountains rolling, When Barney Buntline turn'd his quid, And said to Billy Bowling, A strong norwester's blowing. Bill, Hark ! don't ye heal- it roar now ? Lord help them, how I pities all Unhappy folks on shore now THE APOLLO. 201 Fool liarJy chaps who live in town, What dangers they are liawling, And now are quaking in their beds. For fear the roof should fall in ; Poor creatures, how they envies us. And wishes (I've a notion) For our good luck in such a storm, To be upon the ocean. But as for them who're out all day, On business from their houses, And late at night are coming home To cheer their babes and spouses ; While you and I, Bill, on the deck Are comfortably lying, My eyes what tiles and chimney pots About their heads are flying. And often have we seamen heard How men are kill'd and undone. By overturns of carriages, By thieves and fires in London. We know what risks all landsmen run. From noblemen to tailors ; Then, Bill, let us thank Providence That you and I are sailors. FAREWELL! TF EVER FONDEST PRAYER. (Byron.) Farewell ! if ever fondest prayer For others' weal avail'd on high, Mine will not all be lost in air. But waft thy name beyond the sky ; 'Twere vain to speak, to weep, to sigh. Oh ! more than tears of blood can tell. W^heu wrung from guilt's expiring eye, Are in that word, farewell ! farewell ! 202 THE APOLLO. Tliese lips are mute, these eyes are dry ; But in ray breast and in luy brain Awake the pangs that pass not by. The thought that ne'er shall sleep again. My soul nor dei;i:is, nor dares complain. Though grlei huU passion there rebel; — I only know, we loved in vain, I only feel, farewell ! farewell ! THE SPOUTING AUTHORS. An Original Parody, on the *' Quarrel of BruCus u)id Cassius," written by J. W. Marks. Characters : — Lack-wit and Twaddle. Lack. That you have wroug'd me doth appear in this : You've lash'd and cut up Paper-paunch Lack-leal, My bookseller, for pushing hard luy best Essay in print, among our cockney brethren : Wherein, I deplored the lost and wretched State of authorship, in this our vulgar Modern time. Twad. You wrong'd yourself to scrawl in such a case. Lack. In such an age as this, it is not meet That every trifle should be criticised; When subject has run barren, and matter Itself hangs on our very brain ba.stardized ! Ttvod. Let me tell you, Lack-wit, you yourself Are much condemn'd to drive an itching pen To rate and libel the Literati, To amuse pretenders. Lack. I an itching pen? You know that you are Twaddle that say this; Or, by the nine, this same pen should blast your Fame, and hlch your popularity with The towTffc^ THE APOLLO. 203 Twad. The name of Lackwit companions well Tin's empty threat, anil disputation Therefore, would be but waste of ink. Lack. Disputation ! Ttvad. Remember quarter-day, the Miseries of quarter-day remember ! Didn't g'reat Scribelus starve for povert)''s sake ? What goose-quill lampoon'd him, that did scrawl and Not for vanity ? What^ shall one of as. That lash'd this favorite of all the town. But for culling flatterers ; shall we now Defile our fair pens for Would-be's base brass? And barter our consequence i' the world, For so much trash as might be cramra'd thas? I'd sooner be a critic, and mangle Merit, than sneh a. scribbler! Lath, l^waddle, ma.ngle not me — I'll not endure it: you forget yourself. To school rae thus : I am a scholar, I Longer in the rooms, abler than yourself To rant, and sweat ; mouth and stamp — strut, saw air. And tear a passion to tatters ! Twad. Avaunt ! you're not Lack-wit. Lack. Try me no more, T shall forget myself. Regard your fame — abuse me no more. Tioad. Off, puny mummer ! Yet, hear me, for I will taunt! Must I succumb to your genius' raging? Shall I hug fits of fear, when a ranter roars ! Lack. O, my muse! my muse ! must I endure all this? Twad. All this? aye, more: foam till your fall gall bursts. Go, publish your ambitious hurts. And beg of your applauders flattery ! Must ! crouch to you? must 1 hug and fawn And praise your monkey humour? By the gods ! 204 THE APOLLO. Y(»u shall throw up the foulness of your vStomach, Tjjough it spoil your palate for a month, and Clog your windpipe with retching: for from this Day forth, I'll use you as a stalking horse: Yea, for my mockery's beacon and laugh Creating antidote to dulness, when You are splenetic. Lack. Is it come to this? Twad. You affirm you are a better scholar : Let it be shown such; make egotism truth. And it shall amuse me : for mine own part, I do like to pick a tiny morsel, From the learnedly accomplished. hack. You wrong me every way, you wrong me, Twaddle, When Scribelus sway'd he durst not thus have Used me. Twad. Pooh! pooh I you durst not so have tried him. Lack. Do not presume too much upon my love, I may do that I shall be sorry for ; Twad. You have done that you should be sorry for; There is no satire, Lack-wit, in your strains : For I'm so pinch'd with hypochondriac. That they do as little ruffle me^ as the Loud clamours of an unpopular author That's regarded not I did send to you To borrow three half-crowns, which you denied me ; For I can boast no credit with my friends ; By heaven ! I had rather condemn my Last revised manuscript, and tear it leaf By leaf, to double into pipe-lights. Than to fob a bugbear on the town, on Such unfledged pretension. I did send For three half-crowns to pay my tavern bill. Which you refus'd me : was that done like Lack-wit? Should I have answered Lack- wit so? THE APOLLO. -205 When Spunky Twaddle gets so covetous, To wince, and cry bis purse is out of elbows. To liis fellow taifers at the pen — Be ready, ye muses nine, to borrow Thunder from the gods, and with its dread bolts. Knock his genius o* the head ! Lack. 1 denied you not. He was but a dunce. That brought my answer back — Twaddle's gall'd me, An author should prop an author's fancies. But Twaddle sinks mine lower than they are, Twad. \ do not, till you practise them on me. Lack. You do not love me. Tivad. I like not your mad flights. J^ack. A. friendly eye could see no madness In those flights. Twad. A flatterer's would not, though it did ap- pear As huge as a three-inch quarto volume. Lack. Corae, critics all; and young scribblers, come. Indulge your rank spleen alone on Lack-wit ! For Lack-wit's grown disgusted with the town : Lash'd by one he praised, cttf up by his pal . School'd like a young dunce ; all his faults pounc'd on, Clapt in a horn-book, learn'd and bawl'd by rote, To slap against my teeth. Oh I I could drive i\1y genius from her throne ! here is my head. And here my temple ; behold, here, my bays. Better than fortune mine, brighter than gold If thou be'st an author, come, pluck it forth I, that denied half-crowns will give my bays Lash as thou did'st Scribelus, for I know When thou did'st hate him worse, thou lov'dst h better Than ever thou lov'dst Lack-wit ! Twad. Cover up your head : Be wit-charged when you will, it shall have room O, Lack-wit, you are link'd with a pen-man, 9. T. 206 THE APOLLO. That harhours satire as the fit comes on, ^ Who much enticed, scrawls some stinging points. But anon are harmless ! Lad-. Ilath Lack-wit lived To be but food for satire to his Twaddle, When grief, and his great genius vex him? Twad. When f spoke that, ray genius vext me too. Lack. Do you humble so much ? give me your hand ! Twad. Aye, and my heart too. Laclc. O, Twaddle ! Have you not taste enough to fancy me. When those fiery strains, which the Muses give me. Make me so sarcastic? Twad. Yes, Lack-wit ; and, henceforth. When you're over-lashing of your Twaddle, He'll think the Muses chide, and leave you so. I'LL NEVER MARRY A CHARLEY. Sung by Mrs. FitzwilUnm, in " Billy Taylor," at the Adelfhi Theatre. ■^ii"— Lindiug of Royal Charlie. Mt father's gone to knead his dough. My ma', with the maids to parley, ' And I've popt out to meet my love, In spite of the spiteful Charley ; Though he may cry the hour and sigh. And give me sugar barley. And with William dear he interfere, I'll never marry a Charley. I wish he was in the whirKng wheel ^ Of the water-works of Marley, That the new police might soon come in, Then out must go the Charley. THE APOLLO. 1207 Thougb he may cry tiie hour and ai'^h, And give me sugar barley, Aud with William dear he interfere, i'U never marry a Charley. WILLIAM AND SUSAN. An Original Sung, written by J. IF. Cox. Air — Meet mc by moonlight. Each lass met her tar on the shore, Vet Susan still lingered behind; And William thought she was no more.. Or if living, he thought her unkind. To her cottage he went in great haste, But when there, what a sight met his view, A smuggler wanting to embrace The beautiful form of his Sue. The smuggler he heard tell a tale. That William was drown'd with the crew ; And she o'er his fate did bewail. Yet hoped what he said was untrue. "Sure, heaven," she cried, has preserved A lever so constant and true. Who never a moment has swerved From honour, I'm sure, or bis Sue." With rapture and love William flew To the arms of his sorrowing maid ; And Susan, she found 'twas untrue What the smuggler of William had said. " Shove your false colours oti," exclaim'd Will, " Or to Davy Jones, d — me, you'll go ; For this little bit of sharp steel Will send you in haste there, I know." The smuggler skulk'd olf in a trice, And left Sue alone with her Will. T 2 208 THE APOLLO. Who wlsh'd lier with him to get spliced. At the church near the loot of the hill. She consented with Will to reside. To the church then they hasten'd away; And the villagers crown'd his fair bride, With flowers, the choicest in May. Soon William was call'd by the crew. To the vessel at anchor hard by ; " I shall not leave you long, dearest Sue," — But the answer she gave was a sigh. He scarcely had quitted bis bride, When out of a tavern in haste. Came his captain, who quickly espied Lovely Sue, whom he rudely embraced. Will return'd, what a sight caught his eye. In rage he his captain cut down ; For whici) he was sentenced to die. At the yard arm, the very next morn. Each tar shed a tear at his doom. But Sue for his pardon applied ; And when the dread moment had come, " Oh, he's pardon'd, he's pardon'd !" she cried. I WAS SLEEPING. celebrated Parndy, sung by Mr. Henderson, " Black-Eyed Sukey." Tune— I've been roaming. I WAS sleeping, I was sleeping. In my great and elbow chair. When Bill creeping, when Bill creeping, Seized me by my jetty hair. I was waking, I was waking. When he swore that he would work me. And by shaking, and by shaking. Oh ! the villain he did Burke me. THE APOLLO. 209 THE UNFINISHED JOB. j4n Original Comic Son sweet belle. 213 THE APOLLO. No clapper can I boast, that's ever heard to ring. Always silent sitting, Spinning, sewing, knitting; Customers delighting, too, with joke and pleasant smile so winning. Not a fault possessing — ■ Husband's sweetest blessing. Ne'er was a wife, &c. Oh ! I'm a good little wife. And a pattern lor mothers I am, on ray life; And 1 never indulge either riot or strife — I'm as meek as a lamb or a baby. Clever at baking, at boiling, or stewing, O I Roasting, or frying, preserving, or brewing, ! Never at a loss am T; Seldom too cross am [. Sing like a starling, O ! Husband's best darling, O ! Oh ! T'm a good little wife, &c. THE KILKENNY BOY. Su7ig by Mr. Webb. Oh ! T went to school to Darby Tool, Who had been a soldier [ was told; His talk of wars, of drums and scars, Came over me when nine years old. Then I thought of drums instead of sums, Shillelagh being my writing pen ; My only books were outside crooks. My only joy was fighting men. Then, disdaining brogues, I cross'd the bogs, And march'd as stout as any bov ; The girls would cry, when rae they'd spy. There's Larry Moore the Irish boy. The nice, the neat, the sweet, complete, The handsome, fine Kilkenny boy. THE APOLLO. 213 When older grown, tbe girls, oclione ! About their hearts they twisteci ine, Till Sergeant Shea, he caiue one day, When, by the powers ! he listed lue. Then lietty Byrne, she left the churn. And cried, you've been deceiving me; And Kate O'Neil, faith. 111 go bail. She'll break her heart at leaving me. 'I'hen in this plight, a soldier tight, I march'd as stout as?any boy ; The lair to melt, the foe to pelt. None equalled the Kilkenny boy. The manly, straight, the clean, complete. The beautiful Kilkenny boy. But Serjeant Shea, he died one day, A bullet laid him on tbe floor. And the same polthogue, which spoil'd his brogue, A Serjeant luade of Larry Moore. And it's when the peace bid fighting cease. For the girls, ochone ! 1 had a few. Who thought to tease, but none could please Like the pretty widow Donohoe j For 'tis herself, she has the pelf. And "tis myself can spend it, joy; She cried, ochone ! you're all my own. My thundering fine Kilkenny boy. Oh. you're my broth of a boy, you're my jewel, joy. You're my own, my fine Kilkenny boy. ILL LO'E THEE EVER LANG. An Original Hong, by J, J. Wilson. Now Lavrock's ta'en his flight aboou, Frae 'mang the bending corn ; An' Chanticleerie's gi'en a croon, To welcome in the morn. 214 THE APOLLO. I'll tak' my plaid, an' oWre the hill, My boonie lass, to thee ; Altho' thy inither keeps thee still. Beneath her jealous e'e. An' gin she winna let ye gang. An' tells rae plainly sae, I swear tha^by my sword so lang, I'll ha'e ye ay or nae. But gin she should, in gentle tune, Say thou may wi' me gang, I'll swear to her, by all aboon, To lo'e thee ever lang. CHRISTMAS EVE. Air—Thete't nae luck. The gliding months at length have brought This festive time of year. And trust my words (with welcome fraught,) I'm glad to see you here. Though all without are chilly cold By winter's dismal reign. For jocund leeiings here unfold Forgetful ness of pain. Unbend the mind, let joy appear, And hold unbounded sway. Let's all unite by mirth to cheer The eve of Christmas day. With hearty glee, we'll laughing still. Dull care of power bereave; The song, the joke, in gay good will Shall crown our Christmas Eve. So seldom comes the season round. That all our daily pow'rs With best exertions should abound, To glad the fleeting hours. THE APOLLO. 21! Should hoary tirr»e, (too rapid ass) Amidst our pleasures creep. We'll lull the spoiler with a glass, And thus his rage must sleep; \\'hile thus his senses fast are bound, Supinely still he'll lay. Nor interrupt to vex the mind. Our Eve of Christmas Day. With hearty glee, &c. Then while good humour's jovial spring, Thus undisturbed and free. Each person here in turn must sing. This is my firm decree; Begin at once, and as 'tis best. And quite in justice due, First, Squire jNIoussel, 'tis our request, " The Wolf" to have from yoa ; So lose no time, your voice pray clear, Let^s have no more delay, "The Wolf" from you I'm sure will eheer Our Eve of Christmas Day. With hearty glee, &c. Now, Clarke on you I next shall call, To sing " Giles Scroggins' Ghost ;" You, Jones, must tell what did befal " Will Waddle" and his host. " The Happy Fellow," Moses, give, With jovial thoughts endued ; And, Wilmot, now in song let live '' The Soldier's Gratitude." While efforts thus you kindly use. In pleasing, some display ; No want of mirth will dare abase Our Eve of Christmas Day. With hearty glee. S:C. Young Branston, now your turn has come, And though you're far from small, 216 THE APOLLO. Yet being- youn^^est in (lie room, Shall sing "Nothings at all." Mistress Moussel, I must declare, Though liberty I take. We much should like that favourite air Of " Mary, list ! awake." Though these requests I make so fast. Don't disappoint me, pray; Do no* with dullness overcast Our Eve of Christmas Day. With hearty glee, &c. George Draice, ray friend, 'tis your's to bring " The Farmer's free from strife," And George my brother, yoo must sing " Tom Torason's wearied wife." Though last, not least, you, wife, must let Your vocal powers appear. And sing that fav'rite 'mongst your set. The "Silent Sorrow here." Though as to sorrow 'twill remain Far hence I hope away, We want no gloomy clouds t'enchaia Oar Fve of Christmas Day. With hearty glee, &c. For this great length your pardon deign. Though still I notice call. To hope this meeting will contain Much pleasure for us all ; May years on years revolving course, Return this night to you. May each afford of joys a source, A pleasing, happy view. As each occurs to claim respect. Perhaps in thought you may. With satisfaction recollect Oar Eve of Christmas Day. With hearty glee, &c. THE APOLLO. 217 •'As Piilka W :ilka lay asleep, two monkeys from the tree Came doHO, and rolltl her ofT the bank into a river slap, O.'- THE QUEEN OF OTAHEITE. An Original Comic Song, by A. IV, Humphreys. Tunc— Mri Monday. In Otahelte, I've beard say, a huge fat queen walk'd out, Her beat! was like a mourning coach, it was so black and large, O ! Her eyes were like two Cocoa nuts, a brass ring through her snout. And her name was Pulka VVulka Poki Koki Goalee Barge, O ! She waddled in the woods one day, And Pulka, poor thing, lost her way, The sun was in its burning ray. So she squatted under a high tree. Then with fatigue began to pant, And fell asleep upon a plant, 10. u •218 THE APOLLO. Just like a female elephant Was the queen of Otaheite. Tang a rang a ting a ring ko,pickee nickee wlioo,tabera hirahoraboora; pungkee wuugkee chingko. As Pulka VVulka lay asleep, two monkeys from tlie tree Came down, and roU'd her off the bank into a river slap, O ; She floated down the stream for miles, I tbink 'twas thirty three, Then like dame Amphitrite, sbe sunk to take a watery nap, O ! Ob, then the waters bubbled bigb. And one chief Crocumquick row'd by In bis canoe, and beard her cry. So he stopp'd just as be might see What it was moving iii the deep. He then div'd down to have a peep, And for some boars went to sleep, Witb the queen of Otaheite, Tang a rang, &c. Now just before the sun went down, chief Crocum- quick arose. With Pulka VVulka on bis back and swam witb ber ashore, O ! Tben carried ber to bis own but, while sbe was in a doze. And soon brought ber to life again by rolling her on the floor, O ! Then on bis mat he took bis seat. And kiss'd her o'er from head to feet. On human heads be bade her eat. Says she, " me stop with you to nightee." They gorg'd away on flesh and figs, And play'd a few such rummy rigs, Tben went to sleep and snored like pigs, Ob ! monstrous queen of Otabeite. Tang a rang, &c. THE APOLLO. 219 Miev liv'd together for some time, till he smelt out his doom, That if they caught him with the queen hed get a nasty knock, O ; So he one day made up his mind to take lier to her home. For she had nearly storra'd his hut of all his eata- ble stock, O ! He then poppd her in bis canoe, Aiul row'd her off to king Quim Roo, But he for blood was in the cue, He had the blue devils niigbty ; The queen's ribs be began to punch. Then doubled Crocum in a bunch, And carv'd him up for his own lunch. What a treat in Otaheite. DRINKING AND KISSING ARE PLEASURES DIVINE. Anacreon, they say, was a jolly old blade, A Grecian choice spirit, and poet by trade ; To Venus and Bacchus he tuned up his lays, Foi love and a Ijumper he sung all his days. He laugh'd as he quatfd still the juice of the vine. And though he was hun)an, was look'd on divine; At the feast of good humour he always was there. And his fancy and sonnets still banish'd dull care. Good wine, boys, says he, is the liquor of Jove, ' ris our comfort belnw, and their nectar above: Then while round the table the bumper we pass, Let the toast be to Venus, and each smiling lass. Apollo may torment bis cafgut or wire. Vet Bacchus and Beauty the theme must inspire, Or else all his humming and strumming is vain. The trne joys of heaven he'd never obtain. u2 220 THE APOLLO. To love and be loved, how transporting the bliss, While the heart cheering glass gives a zest to each kiss : With Bacchus and Venus we'll ever combine. For drinking and kissing are pleasures divine. As sons of Anacreon then let us be gay. With drinking and love pass the moments away, With wine and with beauty let's fill up the spaa, For that's the best method, deny it who can. TRANSMOGRIFICATIONS. (Beuler.) Tune— Jingling Johnny. Oh, deary me, it makes me fretful. And life to me is getting hateful ; I see such changes in the nation. Alack ! thers's nought but alteration. I've been e'er since last Tuesday morning, Seeking the street where I was born in ; And all ray haunts and playing stations. Have undergone transmogrifications All these changes make me so vext, I wonder what they'll try to do next. Near London, if they find a field, sirs, Upon it they begin to build, sirs; Bethnal and Turnham Greens the same are. For only (/reen they in their name are. Though London's well supplied with water, By companies in ev'ry quarter; 'Twill soon want companies, 1 declare, sirs, The people to supply with air, sirs. All these changes, &c. When I was young, folks took their pleasure, VVhen they to spare had cash and leisuie. By going to Richmond and Epsom Races, To Bath and to the watering places. THE APOLLO. 221 Each watering place coraplaius most bitterly, That now folks go to France and Italy ; But fashion farther leads than ever, For all the go is now Swan River. All these changes, &c. Oh. once a man was thouglit a lost man. When he became a General Postman ; He had to walk, morn, noon, and night, sirs. Be the weather what it might, sirs. But now the Postmen shew that letters Will raise a man up to his betters ; And now no one their place disparages, For now they ride out in their carriages. All these changes, &c. Once on a time our sea and land boys, Could always get as jolly as sand boys. By drinking ale and good strong beer. And gGi quite fat upon such cheer. But beer and ale have now no merit. Compared with ev'ry ardent spirit; And now they all for gin quite raw thirst, W^hich makes em thin and pale as saw-dust. All these changes, Scc. Once Englishmen were strong and hearty, And did not care for Bonaparty ; But now the porters and all who sarve us, And every body's getting narvoas. Now drovers feel all sensibility, — And, patronized by folks of quality. Are ^Ic. Adaniized roads and spring-coach making, Because their coachmen can't bear shaking. All these changes. &c. Oh, once folks only wanted fire To cook the food they did require ; But now the shows and public plays, sirs, Can't please unless they have a blaze, sirs, u 3 •^22 THE AfOLLO. There's the View of Pantlejiionium, And there's the Fire Kiog, who eats cpiuin- Arsenic, acids, and all his desire Is a hearty meal of coals on fire. All these changes, &c. Oh, once all folks unnoticed might, sirs. Bundles carry all the night, sirs ; But now each new policeman watches, To search all bundles, aud hackney coaches. - Nay more, these new blue-coat policemen, Will take you up they are such nice men, Whene'er they find you drunk and funny. For fear that you should lose your money. All these changes, &c. Oh, once when you by knaves got cheated. With proper justice they were treated ; But when on trial now you have 'em. The cleverest lawyers try to save 'em. Oh, once it was the law's strict letter. The more knaves were exposed the better; But now to save 'em from public reproaches. They're carried to jail in vans and coaches. All these changes, &c; Once great St. Paul's gave satisfaction. And was to London great attraction ; But now there is the Coliseum, Has got his views, and all go see 'em. There you see, on grand expansion, Ev'ry chimney pot and mansion : All parts of town may be detected. By which St. Paul's is much affected. All these changes, &c. Then there's the ZoologicaLGarden, Wherein to get you give a card in : And pay a shilling, which they state, is x The way they admit the people gratis. THE APOLLO. 223 There lueu and brutes stand cheek by jowl, sirs. And there a bear runs up a pole, sirs ; And there they suckle zebra-donkeys. And educate poll parrots and monkeys. All these changes, &c. Oh, once there were no cabrioleys. Nor Omnibus, which will, by golys ! I think, although of public service, The ruin be of Hackney Jarvies, There are steam coaches, having power To go at thirty miles an hour; But if I sing of all things clever, I think my song would last for ever. So I'll give over, for I'm so vext — Oh, I wonder what they'll try to do next. HINDOSTAN GIRL. (Original.) 'Tis thy will, and T must leave thee, O then, my best beloved, farewell, I forbear lest T should grieve thee. Half ray heart felt pangs to tell ; Soon a British fair will charm thee. Though her smiles will fondly woo, But though she to rapture warm thee. Don't forget thy poor Hindoo. Well I know this happy beauty. Soon thy envied bride will shine, But will she by anxious duty. Prove a passion warm as mine ; If to rule be her ambition, And her own desire pursue, Thou'lt recall my fond submission. And regret thy poor Hindoo. 224 THE APOLLO^ Born herself to rank and splendour. Will she deign to wait on thee, And those soft attentions render, Thou so oft hast praised in me. Yet I doubt her care to please thee, Thou must every heart subdue ; 1 am sure each maid that sees thee. Loves thee like thy poor Hindoo. When alas, I'm from thee parted. Other maids will peree obtain, But thy Zayda, broken hearted, Never more will smile again ; O how fast from thee they tear me, Faster still shall death pursue. But it is well, death will endear me. And thou wilt mourn thy poor Hindoo, GALLIGANTUS. (T. Dibdin.) Sung by Mr. Sloman, at the Coburg Theatre, My master's not so very tall, as rumour'd by some people. But when at church, they say, he hangs his hat upon the steeple ; And though his stiide is very wide, I doubt, upon my soul, sir. That he slept over Waterloo Bridge, just to save the toll, sir. Oh, what whackers, squibs and crackers bounce about our ears, sir. Who ever said it, 1 don't credit half of what one hears, sir. They go their length about his strength, and say that once by trick, sir. The Monument, by slight of hand, he made his walking stick, sir ; THE APOLLO. 225 Thej say, that once he lift St.|Paal'8, — ten sovereigns to a farthing, I'll bet, because it only was St. Paul's in Covent Garden. Oh, what whackers, lie. When once in love, unto his do\e, I heard, he wrote a letter, Each line a mile, you well may smile, for my part I knew better; ( carried it myself, and can assure you 'twas no more, sirs, Thau what I got with little trouble in at the street- door, sirs. Oh, what whackers, &c. Now miss, we hear, was so severe, she broke pour master's heart, sirs, And then, 'tis said, the tears he shed, they hlld a water-cart, sirs ; But that's denied, he only sigh'd twice, gentle, and no more, sir. Which drove two vessels out to sea and bumpt the third on shore, sir. Oh, what whackers, kc. FHs face, oh. Lord, is call d so broad, you will hardly credit me, sir, 'I'hat he on many a night contrives two plays at once to see, sir ; That's a thing at which I own I am not surprised at all, sir. For when one eye's at Drury-lane the other's at Vauxhall, sir. Oh, what whackers, &c. That mighty thing, his wedding ring, is but a barrel hoop, sir. They say besides, to kiss his bride that he his forced to stoop, sir ; 'Twixi you and 1, that's all a lie, because I tell you why, sir, The lady is just twenty-seven feet nine inches high, sir. Oh. what whackers, &c. 326 THE APOLLO. One night his wife had lock'd him oat, and thinking that a bore, sir, He down the chimney put his fist, and open'd the street door, sir ; Then lit his pipe at Pimlico, and threw such sparks around him, That engines came from Hammersmith, and very nearly drown'd him, Oh, what whackers, &c. One night his elder son was born, he ran altho' 'twas dark, sir, He was just three feet higher than Achilles in Hyde Park, sir. He stole a coal barge off the Thames to make the child a cradle. And VVhitbread's mash-tub was too small to make him a pap ladle, Oh, what whackers, &c. ■»^*^*^ AN* MAUN WE PART. An Original Duet, tvritten by T. Storey. /!ir— Whistle o'er the lave o'f. He. An' is it sae that we maun part. Thy charms hae fairly won my heart. Far dearer unto me thou art Than coffers full o' money, O ! O ! say, sweet maid, thou wilt agree. To venture o'er the rolling sea. An' spend thy days alang wi' me, Fn bonnie Caledonia. Where heather bells the- hills adorn. An' fields are clad wi' yellow corn. An' when the blossom's on the thorn. An' nature a' looks bonny, O ! THE APOLLO. <^zn We'll cliHib the highest mountain's peak. The freshest purest air to seek,- The bh)om will soon flush in thy cheek, On hills o' Caledonia. She. 'Moug heatlier bells in month of May, With you to range and spend tlie day. And see the lambkins frisk and play. Might pleasure yield to Fanny, O ! Bat when December winds do blow, And hills are cover'd o'er with snow, Say then what pleasure should I know. With yon in Caledonia. He. Let nae sic thoughts thy mind alarm, I will protect thee from a' harm. To shield thee frae the pelting storm, That might blow hard upon ye, O ! Around ye I my plaid will throw. An' fond atiection's warmest glow Shall melt the keenest blasts that blow, On hills o' Caledonia. She, Your words and actions speak so kind. How can I think to stay behind, O, no, I have made up my mind, To go along with Johnny, O ! My father's house I'll leave for thee. And venture o'er the foaming sea, And spend my days as heaven's decree. With you in Caledonia. He. What joyfu' words are these I hear. More sweet than music to my ear. Come to my arms if you're sincere. My sweetest dearest honey, O ! 228 I'HE APOLLO. When I prove false to Fanny, know,'* Or when love's spring shall cease to flow. The thistle green shall cease to grow On hills o' Caledonia. BILLY TAYLOR. Billy Taylor was a gay young fellow, Full of mirth and full of glee. And his heart he did diskiver To a lady fair and free. Four-and-twenty stout young fellows, Clad they were in blue array. Came and press'd poor Billy Taylor, And forthwith sent him to sea. Soon his true love follow'd a'ter. Under the name of Richard Cavr, And her lily white hands she daub'd all over With the nasty pitch and tar. When they came to the first engagement. Bold she fit amongst the rest, Until a cannon-ball did cut her jacket open, And diskiver'd her lily white breast. When the captain com'd for to hear nn't. Says he, " Vat vind has blown you here?" Says she, " I come for to seek for ray true love, Whom you press'd, and T love so dear." " If you come for to seek for your true love. Tell unto me his name, 1 pray." " His name, kind sir, is Billy Taylor^ Whom you press'd and sent to sea." " If his name is Billy Taylor, He's both cruel and severe ; For rise up early in the morning, And you'll see him with a lady fair." THE APOLLO. 229 With that she ros'd up in the morning, Early as by break of day ; And she met her Billy Taylor, Walking with a lady gay. Forthwith she call'd for sword and pistol, Which did come at her command. And she shot her Billy Taylor, With his fair one in his hand. When the captain com'd for to hear on't. He werry much applauded her for what she'd done. And quickly he made her first lieutenant, Of the gallant — Thunder-bomb. DOCTOR LARRUP. A Comic Recitation. '•' What is a schoolmaster ?" — Why, can't you tell ? A quizzical old man Arm'd with a rattan ; Wears a huge wig, And struts about; Strives to look big, With spectacles on snout. And most important pout. Who teaches little boys to read and spell. Such my description is, of a man. If not a clergyman — a layman, — So much by way of definition, And to prevent dull disquisition We'll shortly take a new position. A schoolmaster, (it mostly follows) Who keeps a school must have some scholars, Unless indeed, (which said at once is) Instead of scholars they're all dunces ; Or, if this fancy more should tickle. Suppose them mix'd — like Indian pickle. 10. X 230 THE APOLLO. One Doctor Larrup; as depicted here, Wlio little boys had flogg'd for many a year— Not that they would'nt learn their ABO, Their Hie, htBC, hoc, — Syntax, or Prosody, But that, despite Of all his might. And oft enforced rules of right, They would contrive by day or night, To steal — oh ! flinty -\\ediXie A sparks, — Worse than to little fish or sharks, — (Alas ! to tell it my Muse winces,) To steal — his apples, pears, and quinces. Put them where'er he would, alike their dooms^ His efforts prov'd ^h fruitless as his rooms. As a pert dunghill cock, inflam'd with ire. Erects his feathers and his comb of fire, When of some grains, his own by right. He's robb'd by foes that take to flight, — So stood the Doctor : With face as red As coral bed. His wig cockt forward in his eye, As if it there the cause would spy. Had his wife been there, I do declare ft would have shock'd her. After long buffeting in mental storm. His brain's thermometer fell from hot to warm : At many plans by turns he grapples. To save his quinces, pears, and apples: When luckily into his noddle His recollection chanc'd to toddle. This sage informant told poor Larrup, If he'd convey his fruit so far up. That, on his house's top there stood, A room, well floor'd, \ think with — wood. i THE APOLLO. 231 Twas what some folks a loft would call ; The entrance through a trap door small, Fix'd in the cieling of his chamber, To which he up a rope must clamber , Unless a ladder was prepar'd. And then the rope's-end might be spar'd ; But he'd a long, well-practis'd knack. Of sparing neither rope nor back. Ye wlio in proper titles glory. Will think, I hope, as I have oft. That, as this story's of a loft, ft should be caiPd a " Lofty Story." Well, Larrup, without more disputing, Fix'd on this loft to put his fruit in, And quickly had it thither mov'd, How far securely, must be provd. From one apartment, so erected That with the very trifling risk Of dislocating neck or shoulder. Which boys ne'er think of in ,1 frisk, (Nay oft it makes the urchins bolder) AdveiitTous spirits might contrive To reach the Doctor's apple-hive. In this room rested four or ii\e Of these young pilferers, undetected. Whilst leaden sleep sat on the Doctor's shutters, (By shutters, I would here imply. The lids that shut light from the eye) These daring rogues explored the tiles and gutters In search of trap or casement — but alack ! They found not e'en a small, a gracious crack. When one, 'gainst ev'ry disappointment proof, Propos'd that they should just — untile the roof; At least, sullicient space t'adniit A basket, in which one might sit; And thus by rope to handle tied, Be iowei'd down with ffentlo vide. 232 THE APOLLO. This being appro?'d of 'twas decided, That, 'gainst next night should be provided A basket and a rope ; Which being in due time effected, A super-cargo was selected. Who, tais'd by Hope, VVas gradually lotver'd through the hole. From whence he sent up apples by the shoal. This plan they often put in force, (Not oft'ner than they could of course,) And when their pilfering job was ended. The untiled roof they always mended. The Doctor frequent visits made, And soon perceiv'd his apples stray'd: And oft upon the school-room floor, Lay many a pear and apple core : With grief he view'd these sad remains, Of what, to keep, he took such pains. Despair now made his beart its prey, — When, entering the loft one day. His ears had pretty ample proof. The rogues were breaking through the roof» He wisely then concealed himself, — When lo ! down came one little elf; But he no sooner reach the ground did. When at him, out the Doctor bounded. And threaten'd, if he said a sentence. He'd give him cause for years repentance. The boy stood mute as pewter pot, While Larrup in the basket got; When being seated snug and steady, lie made his pris'ner cry, "all's ready. The boys above began to pull, — " Bless me ! the basket's very full." " He's got a swinging lot this time." " And I'll be bound he's pick'd the prime." THE APOLLO. 233 " To it again With might and main, Another haul will do the job." — " Vo ! JO ho 1 Up we go I'' When lo ! up popt the doctor's nob ! How they all look'd I can't express. So leave that part for you to guess; But you, perhaps, may think it right To know the end of Larriip's flight. Well! when they'd drawn him to the top, Where he, most likely wish'd to stop. The wicked rascals — let the Doctor drop : •»^*^-*^ SAVOURNEEN DEELI8H (G. Co'inan.) Oh! the moments were sad when my lo\e aad I parted, Savourneen deelish ielen oge, I kiss'd off the tear, and was nigh broken hearted, Savourneen, &c. Wan was her cheek, as it hung on my shoulder; Damp was her hand, no marble was colder, I felt that I never again should behold her, Savourneen, Sic. When the word of command set our troops into motion, Savourneen, &c. I bnckled on my knapsack, to cross the wide ocean, Savourneen, &c. Brisk were our troops, all roaring like thunder. Pleased with the voyage, impatient for plunder, jNly bosom with grief was almost vent asunder, Savourneen, f^c x3 234 THE APOLLO. Long I foiigbtfor ray country, far,far,lrom ray truelovC;, Savourneen, 8iC. All ray pay and juy plunder I hoarded for you, love, Savourneen, &c. Peace was proclaim'd ; escaped from the slaughter, — Lauded at home, my sweet girl, J sought her; But sorrow, alas I to the cold grave had brought her, Savourneen, &c. LONDON NOVELTIES. : (Original.) If'ritten by J. W. Smith, and sung by W. H. Williams, in "The Slave,'* with unbounded applause. Turn— The World's Seven Wonders. London is famed for changes and monstrosities, Tol de lol, lol de lol, de rido ! Ev'ry one now runs after newly-found pomposities, Neglecting their affairs for silly whims and oddities ; Hey, ho ! the Gazette will prove it so, Tol de lol, &c. The men run to the girls, and call them pretty dears, Tol de lol, &c. The girls then run from home, and their mothers run in tears To pour a tale of woe into some lawyer's ears ; Hey, ho ! elopement is the go, Tol de lol, &c. Lord Wellington in war once great destruction hurl'd Tol de lol, &c. And laurels for his victories round his brows were curl'd, — But now they call him Premier — the man wot rules the world ! Hey, ho ! the Catholics well know, Tol de lol &c. THE APOLLO. 235 In SmitLfield market-place, where Protestants were fried, Tol de lol, &c. And man, grown tir'd of love could halter hia Bweet bride — The Mayor now fries the wet'uns wot stunk before they died ! Hey, ho ! sausage-makers know, Tol de lol, &c. Poor Chuny ev'ry night at Sadler's Wells was shot, Tol de lol, &c. Whose biggest sister now at th' Adelphi they have got, Where some night in her hunger — actors will go to pot ! Hey, ho ! elephants do so, Tol de lol, &c. Ev'ry thing is quiet, and in a state of peace, Tol de lol, &c. Except distress and roguery — which so greatly do increase — They've raised a standing army, y'clept the New Police '. Hey, ho! Mr. Peel did so, Tol de lol, &c. Novelty most rages in this dull sort of weather, Tol de lol, &ic. Like Juno's swans, so similar in ev'ry limb and feather — They've got two little boys, and tied them both to- gether ! Hey, ho ! the Siamese did so, Tol de lol, &c. The parsons load are railing against the stage each day, Tol de lol, &c. 5^30 THE APOLLO. And CI editors are railing that debtors will not pay— Wliile coacheg run like lightning upon the netv rail- way ! Hey, ho ! I cannot'sing — and so Tel de lol; &c. FRESH BLOWS THE GALE. Fresh blows the gale, soon under weigh. Our bark was borne with many a sigh ; I oft review'd the less'ning bay, And lost it with a tearful eye : But soon our crew began to blame IVly love-lorn grief, and call'd it folly^ And oft I troU'd a catch for shame. Yet secret cried for pretty Polly. Our little bark, by valour fraught, Soon met the foe, and laurels won, sir! Iiispir'd by love alone I fought. And galn'd fresh courage at my gun, sir* Our captain's praise unmov'd F heard, Thought all the victor's boast but felly ! Then flew on shore to claim reward. And heart for heart from pretty Polly. «N»«S«-«^ SAN DOMINGO BILLY, O ! iiir— Jack's the lad. When last our gallant fleet did lay Just oft' scorching San Domingo Bay; Our Admiral, though a jolly dog. Would often stint our mess of grog, Which made us often feel devilish chilly, O ! Our tars soon determined to make him tack about, And each one for a plan was sharp on the look out j THE APOLLO. 237 Raw junk and biscuit, what a lark ! To see us pitch it to a shark, And book a mess to San Domingo Billy, O ! Singing — Fol de rol, &.C. 'Bout eight bells he'd swim round the fleet, With three decks of grinders ready to eat. His breakfast, whether beef or biscuit Down his gullet how he'd whisk it, Captain's horse and gig there would look silly, O I One naoroing while Billy was waiting for his share, A buinboat woman black as the devil came there. Her little piccaninny dropp'd From off her arm, and soon he poppd Spokbn.] Now where in the name of old Daddy Neptune d'ye think he popp'd to, before any of us could say, 'bout ship ! Why down the throat of San Domingo Billy, O I Singing — Fol de rol, &tc. Tom Oannell who stood six feet two The best looking fellow of all the crew Snatch'd up a knife and down dives he. And soon he crimson'd all the sea. While blackey for her boy shriek'd shrilly, O ! But bold Tom had been scarcely half a minute there, When up he came again, haild with a deaf'ning cheer; Mother Blackey nimbly danc'd for joy To see her darling little boy. Spoken.] Ah ! and so did every man Jack of ua, and as soon as that was over, we threw out our grappling irons, lugg'd Billy on deck, open'd all his stowage holes, and found ourselves in possession of about five-hundred backey-boxes, twi.xt two and three-hundred watches, a score of pilots' telescopes, three admiral's cock'd hats, two fire buckets, the 238 THE APOLLO. identical pistol which was knuck'd out oi Will Watch's left haud in his last cngageiuent, besides many other little odds and ends — in short, there was plenty for every man on board to take A prize from master San Domingo Billy, O ! Singing — Fol de rol, &c. THE LADY'S BOWER. An Original Song, uritten by Jesse Hammond. Air — A t\j old fox ouce cbanc'LLO. 539 Ti)e lady heard, aud slgb d agaiu, Heiijhu ! &.C. Aud tbus she spurn'd what now seem d vain, Helgho ! &:c. Go, butterfly, thou canst not sing, A tulip uo perfume can bring, And a fnpling's but a worthless iLiug., Heighu! &:c. When U'isdoms whisper was obey'd. Heigh o I &.C. And when the moral was convey d, Heigho ! &:c. The bird began his sweetest lay, The rose again bloomd fresh aud gay, And her lore return'd at close of day. Heigho ! kc. THE JACK DAWS. As an old Jack Daw and a ynang Jack Daw Vere a valkiug out together, As you very veil know vhat birds vill do That are of the same ft ather ; Says the old Jack Daw to the yoong Jack Daw, I vou't valk another stride, For I sees a cow in yonder mead — ow. So let us get up and ride. As the old Jack Daw and the young Jack Daw Vere a riding up atop of the cow. Says the young Jack Daw to the old Jack Daw, I can ride as veil as thou : Says the old Jack Daw to the young Jack Daw^ Vhy you can't ride half so veil ; Then, says the young Jack Daw to the old Jack Daw, If 1 can't, vbv then I vill cut a great swell. 240 THE APOLLO, A« the old Jack Daw and tlie young Jack Daw V^ere going on vith their dispute. Says the old Jack Daw to the young Jack Daw, T vishes as how you'd be mute ; Says the young Jack Daw to the old Jack Daw, I von't, for I'll kick up a row ; Vhy then, sajs the old Jack Daw to the young Jack Daw, I'll kick you ofF of the cow. As the old Jack Daw and the young Jack Daw Felt their passions begin for to rise, Says the old Jack Daw to the young Jack Daw, I'll peck oat both your eyes; Says the young Jack Daw to the old Jack Daw, Fy on you, you vicked old bird ; Vith that, the old Jack Daw kick'd the young Jack Daw, And tumbled him into a Vhen the old Jack Daw saw the young Jack Daw, He vas sorry for vhat he had done ; Says the old Jack Daw to the young Jack Daw, Oh ! indeed, it was only in fun ; Says the young Jack Daw to the old Jack Daw, I'll go home and I'll tell my mammy ; Vhy then, says the old Jack Daw to the young Jack Daw, If I care for the old witch, d — me. Attend, all good people, both old and young. To vhat I vould say to you now. And vhenever you goes for to valk out together. Don't get up atop of a cow ; And, like the poor dirkey birds, quarrel and fight. Lest you gets a bloody nose ; You may be sent home in the wery same plight, With a uastiuess over your clothes. THE APOLLO. •241 "Tboliiill tore away till he came to the fair, \^ here the Bingerbread stalls he made fly in the ait THE IRISH RIDE. All Original Comic Song, by Mr. At. Hall. Tune— Detry Down. Two Irisluuon walking along the road side, And both being tir'd they wanted a ride, So to wait for a lift they sat down on a stile, " Now let's eat our praties," they said, with a smile. Derry down, &c. A farmer lived by there, he taking no heed. Had that moment turn'd out a bull for to feed ; " I'll bet. yo a wager," one cried with a vow, " That I'll ride a horseback, a-top of that cow." Derry down, &c. "So will I," cried the other, "and this you shall find. Whilst you drive before, that I'll get up behind, 11. V 242 THE APOLLO. And with uiy shillelah I'll give hitu a smack. Then, hurrah ! blood and ouus ! we'll he home iti a crack." Derr} down, kc. They mounted the bull, like two birds on a tree, Then shouted, " huzza ! let old Ireland be free !" The bull tore away till he came to the fair, Where the gingerbread stalls he made fly in the air. Derry down, &ic. The people by hundreds all ways they did run. And cried out, "egad, here's old Nick and his son." The bull kick'd and roar'd, amidst hissing and groans, Whilst they pelted poor Paddies with brickbats and stones. Derry down, &c. The next that befel them will please you the most. Their heads quickly met with a large finger post, Which knock'd them both down in a ditch, let me say. And smother'd them nearly with water and clay. Derry down, &c. The people were busting with laughter and grins. To see these wild Irishmen up to their chins ; Then some one took pity, and out soon they got 'em. But their shoes and their stockings stuck fast to the bottom. Derry down, &c. Being once more on dry land, away ofiF they tript, All smother'd in clay, like two candles well dipt ; So instead of a ride home, themselves to amuse. They walk'd twenty miles without stockings or shoes. Derry down, &Cj FOR HARK! HOUND AND HORN ARE SALUTING THE DAY, Rouse, roase, jolly sportsmen, the hounds are all out, The chase is begun, I declare ; Come, up too, and horse, let us follow the rout. And join in the chase of the hare. THE APOLLO. 243 For bark ! horn and hound are saluting the day, The fox from his covert is bursting away ; O'er naountains be scampers, we'll double our pace, .Swift vengeance pursues hira, and gladdens our chase. Lose, lose no time, to horse, my boys, Fling otF dull drowsy spleen; 'I'he neighing sounds, and deep-tongued noise, Now calls us to the green. For hark ! horn, &c. With rosy health our cheeks shall glow, Our nerves with toil be strong; With tides of joy our blood shall flow. Who join vhe hunting throng. For hark! horn, &c. And when we leave the shouting field. And night has brought us home, Jiibations rich the hall shall yield, Loud mirth shall shake the dome. For hark ! horn, &c. THE DE\TH OF CHARLEY. An fhiginal Parody on "Tom Moody," hy W. H. Frfenmn. "V'ou all knew Pat Morgan, the ould watchman, well, 1 hat 'ere New Police Act toll'd ould Charley's kueli ; A more stricter watchman could never be found. Ev'ry corner was well known that lay in his round: No one e'. er pass'd him but slily he viewd, And he'd challenge him too if he thought him no good , All hoins with attention he'd eagerly mark. And he svaked up the folks as he shouted at dark, Ten o'clock ! — Cloudy night ! Move on ! — Move on there ! V 2 •214 THE APOLLO. Six cunning oald Cliarlies in great coats all dress'd, Supported poor Pat to a " box" made lor rest ; That box which he stiled "bis own home" wasnpset, On whose door there was chalk'd, " this here house to be let " Wig, rattle and lantern, were trophies of grief, And here and there follow'd an old straggling thief; Ah, no more at his voice squares and lanes will they trace. Nor the alleys resound witb the row of the chace. VV^ith, Stop thief! — Now press him ! There they go ! — There they go ! Thus Pat spoke his friends ere he gave up the ghost, " Since ray lantern's put out, and my watch-box is lost, One favour bestow — 'tis the last I shall crave. Spring your rattles and cry the hour over my grave; And iiuicss at that waruiug I set up a lilt, t)cii I Imili; vou spuljieeus may believe I am kilt!" Honest Pat was obe^^^'d, and the row rent the sky, For they kick'd up a thund'ring biy, filliloo cry. (Imitation of ratthn.) Hubbauoo ! — Past ten ! Rainy morn !- — Move on there ! THE MARGATE HOY. (Dibdin.) Standing one summer's day on the Tower slip. Careless how I my time should employ, It popp'd in my head that I'd take a trip. Aboard of a Margate hoy. I took a few slops, such as shirts and a coat, I'or of prog I knew well they'd be stored ; Then I hail'd a pair of oars, shov'd oft' my boat. And away I dash'd aboard. Si'oKEN.] Ah, my dear commodore, who thought of seeing you? What, Mrs. Garbage? how is the THE APOLLO. 24 3 Alderman ? I'here is my husband, sir. 'Pou my word; iind Dicky, I declare. (Ii\e uie lea\e, com- modore, to introduce you to ruy Iriends : — Mr. 8had- lach. Commodore Kelson; Commodore Kelson, Mr. Shadracb. Vara mosli at your sbarvice, sir. Miss Minnikiu. Commodore Kelson ; Commodore Kelson, Miss 3linnikin Very happy to have the pleasure of knowing- you, sir. Dr. Quibus, Commodore Kelson ; Commodore Kelson, Dr. Quibus Captain Squash, Commodore Kelson; Commodore Kelson, Captain Squash. — Sir Phelim O'Drogheda, Commodore Kel- son ; Commodore Kelson, Sir Phelim O'Drogheda. Hollo, there ! cast oS the painter ! Sit still, ladies and gentlemen. So off we went with a flowing jib. Full of merriment and joy; The alderman munching, and prattling his rib; Sing, who so blythe as we, Who take a voyage at sea. Aboard of a Margate hoy. Then such joy and humour our joy to prolong. Pervaded all, fore and aft; Some were telling a story, some whistling a scn^, As we tnrn'd in and out amongst the cralt. Then wed talk of our danger, and then we were gay, Then how we'd astonish the folks. When at Margate arrived, then cut out your way. To laugh at a waterman's jokes. Spoken.] Hoy, the ship, ahoy ! Ay, ay. Pray have you one Wiseman aboard ? No, no. Then you are all fools, aye ? Ha, ha, ha, went Miss Min- nikin. Dat is vara coot jokes, said the Jew. Why, I say, Moses, said the man that was affronted, are yoa a bull or a bear? dam'me, I thinks you looks more like a monkey ! — and you. Miss Dolly Drylips, take a reef in your perriwig, and clap a stopper oh Y 3 246 THE APOI.LO. your muzzle, clew up tlie plaints in your jaw-bags, and give your tongue leiive ol" absence. Abuut ship ; heliu'd a-Iee ; here she comes. So we made t'other tack, and lay gunnel to, Which soon gave a damp to our joy; Miss Minnikin squall'd — mine Cot! cried the Jew, Sing, who so blythe, &c. The company's merriment now out of joint. And their tattlers not moving so quick, Scarce riglit a-head did we twig Cuckold's Point, But the alderman began to be sick. Then we'd like to I'eil foul of an oyster-smack, The wind freshing towards the Nore ; Then stretching too far on the larboard-tack, lyy and bye we came bump ashore. Spoken.] Ah ! we shall all he cast away I — Oh ! my poor dear pattern-cap ! Casht avay ! — Vat shall I do lo be shaved? Why, faith, said f, 1 fancy we shall have a touch of the salt water belore we get to Margate. Yes, sir, said the doctor; not that I have any quarrel with death, but I'm afraid we shall take iu too large a dose. How do you do, Sir Phelim ? Arrah, I should be well enough if I was not so cursedly sick. She rights, she rights ! Next a gale coming on, we did preciously kick. Which finish'd completely our joy ; 'Twas, ma'am, how do you do ? Ob, I'm monstrously sick ! And, sir, how are you? Oh, Im damnably sick ! Sing, who so blythe, &c. And now 'twould have made a philosopher grin To have seen such a concourse of muus. Sick as death, wet as muck, from the heel to the chin For it came on to blow great guns. THE APOLLO. 547 Spoilt clothes and provisions now clfgy d isp (lie Hay, ill a dreary and boisterous night : While apparently dead ev'ry passenger lay. With the sickness, but more with the Iright. Spoken.] 1 wish I was at home in my bed ! Oil, that I was a hundred miles off! Meicy upon my shins ! Oh, will nobody throw me overboard? Avast, there ! Ah, my poor dear pattern-caps blown into the pond ! Oh, ray soul ! what a devil of a sick- ness ! Arrah! stop the ship; sir, would you be so kind as to be alter handing the caudle-cup ) Land, land, upon the starboard bow. At last, after turning on two or three tacks, Margate-lights soon restored all our joy ; The men found their stomachs, the women their clacks : Sing, who so blythe, &c. THE HEART WHERE LOVE IS BEATING. Mildly the cup with golden bubbles greetings Sad sorrow's lip her chilly breast may warm, Sweetly the flow'rs their grateful odours ni<'eting. In fairy spells may lend e'en joy a charm ; But hope alone. Hath power to calm. The heart where love is beating. Vision of bliss, too like the rainbow fleeting. The maid I prize, my constant soul disdains. Broken her vows, from every tie retreating, She flies, the slave but leaves him still in chains A slave whose heart, Ah ! still retains The heart where love is beating. 248 THE APOLLO. MR. LOWE AND MISS CUNDY. (T. lIiHl^on ) A sPRi'ct; linen-tiraper, one Mr. John Lowe, W'alk'd the Custom-home quay one Sunday ; His dress was the pink ot the fashion and go, When he ra;it with the charming Miss Cundy: Her beautiful eyes took him quite hy surprise. And so queer was the state that he felt in, He tried all in vain to tell her his pain. For his heart was really a melting. But, alas! who can look into Fate's book of laws! Mr. Lowe would have married Miss Cundy ; He lost her ! — he lost her ! — and only because He cut his toe-nails on a Sunday. The next time he met her his love he made known, Her person he thought all perfection ; He press'd her with speed to be bone of bis bone. She blush'd and — had no objection. He gaily did sing, went and purchased the ring, And the next Sunday was the bespeak day: For that day would chime, and agree with his tiiue. Much better than having a week day. But, alas, &;c. On the blest Sunday morning he got up with glee, (Ijittle thinking what mischief' was hatching,) Took out his pen-knife his toes to make free, At night to prevent them from scratching. But the knife slipt and gave his great toe such a wound, (Sweet wedlock there's surely a fate in) He could not put it at all to the ground, Though he knew sweet Miss Cundy was waiting. But, alas, 8iC. Oh, words can't describe all his trouble and woe, Only think of his sad situation! THE APOLLO. '2i9 A surgeon was sent for, w ho dress'd his great toe, Auti talk'd about amputation. Laid up tor a monih, while Miss Cundy so smart. Disappointed of having this short knight, Without delay got her another sweetheart. And married in less than a fortnight. So, young men, if love has got into your head. Recollect Mr. Lowe and Miss Cundy ; And whatever you do before you get wed. Never cut your toe nails on a Sunday ! ROSES, SIR. An Original Song, written by IV. Cannabee, /4ir— Oysters, tir. When spring array'd in regal pride. With floweis bedecks the ground ; With well stor'd basket by my side, I trip my daily round. And as I wander day by day, I sell my flowers so fine ; Come suit your taste, kind sir, I pray. To roses you incline. Roses, sir, roses, sir, — none there are so fine, Vou are the sweetest, they reply ; I answer, pray buy mine. But when.stern winter's icy bands. Return to chill the ground ; No more with flowrets I can stand, Or trip my lonely round. With many a sigh of heartfelt pain, I sing sweet ballads here ; Till spring returns to bless again. And smile upon the year. Roses, sir, roses, sir, — none there are so fine. Come buy a rose of orphan Rose; I pray y«»u, sir, buy mine. 250 THE APOLLO. THE SHOVEL AND BROOM; OR, THE WALTZING CFTIMNEY SWEEPER. Tun*— Buy a broom. Though I'm bnt a chimney sweep, 1 took a ticket; To go on one evening to dusty Tom's room ; Who dancing now teaches — he linows how to kick it, For which he lias quitted the shovel and broom ; For bow and the fiddle, pouchette down the middle, He's quitted for ever the sho?el and broom, The shovel and broom, the shovel and broom, He has quitted tor ever the shovel and broom. 1 got for ray partner, Paulina, the daughter Of master INlountsaddle, the Angel Inn groom; Her red lip and plump figure made my mouth water. And I fell in love as we waltz'd round the room. Oh, sich a creatur I my eye ! vhat a creatur ! A. partner so fit for a knight of the broom ! The shovel and broom, a knight of the broom ; A partner so fit for a knight of the broom ! The whole of next morning I thought of her beauties, And I my employment could hardly resume; Neglected, in fact, my professional duties, And waltz'd in the street as I'd waltz'd in the room. Till Jack Cragg, the carter, cried " What are you a'ter, There twisting about with your shovel and broom ?'' Your shovel and broom, your shovel and broom. For I valtz'd in tlie mud with my shoel and broom. Soon after herjatber call'd me from my cellar, To a job at his lodging, a first-floor back room ; . As Pauline was alone there, 1 ventur'd to tell her My love ; but she vonder'd how I could presume, THE AFOLLO. 051 In the sphere I was luoviug, to talk about loving'; Aud she tiuu'd up her uose at my sliovel and broom, My shovel and broom, my shovel aud broora. She turn'd up her nose at my shovel and broom. To implore her T fell on my knees, but by Gemini ! She spurn'd me. and quitted the room in a fume ! So bewilder'd was I, when my boy left the chimney, T call'd him Pauline, as he stood with his broom ; Then, 'cause the young beggar did grin like a neger, I batter'd his head with my shovel and broom. My shovel and broom, my shovel and broom, I batter'd his knob with my shovel and broom. Oh, this was my first love, and this I was cross'd in ; Ah ! scornd by Pauline, how hard is my doom ! I grow melancholy — this vorld I am lost in ; No more I go valtzing in dusty Tom's room, But think of her scorning, crying sweep on a morning. And veep as I vork with my shovel and broom, My shovel and broom, my shovel and broom, I veep as I vork with my shovel and broom. THE MARINER'S COMPASS IS GROG. S\M Spritsail's a lad you'd delight in, For friendship he's ever agog ; Loves his King, loves his wench, and loves fightings And he loves, to be sure he does, grog. Says Sam, says he, " Life's all a notion. And wants from the spirits a jog ; The world is a wide troubled ocean. And our rudder and compass is grog ! For grog is our larboard and starboard. Oar main-mast, our mizen, our log ; At sea, or ashore, or when harbour'd. The mariner's compass is grog. 25i THE APOLLO. " Let but £rrng take Its char<^e of the helm, We perceive not the dangers of sea ; Or if billows the vessel o'erwhelra, Still gro^ is the pilot for me ! Since grog saves the trouble of thinking. Then here's to each bold jolly dog! For he that delights in good drinking, Will toss off his full can of grog. For grog is our larboard, &c. Sara Spritsail, though grog he loved dearly. And its praise he enraptured would sing, Yet he fought for his country most cheerly, Loved his sweetheart, and honour'd his king. For Sara's heart was spliced to his Nancy's, And his mind on the wench quite agog ; Yet sailors have comical fancies, And dear as his Nancy he lov'd grog. For grog is his larboard, &c. A CURE FOR A SCOLDING WIFE. Adapted for Recitation. Behoi.d ! I come to tell you such a tale. As sure to raise your wonder cannot fail ; No l^atin author shall disturb your ears. No Greek I'll speak, — so pray dispel your fears ; A prodigy, for once shall be my theme, So as you like or dislike, praise or blame. A worthy, honest man, once chancM to wed A termagant, and took her to his bed; Her flippant tongue broke loose so Tcry soon. She could not wait to pass the honey-moon ; 'I'he next three weeks they lived a horrid life. Like cat and dog, more than like man and wife : Hence six months more they lived in better spleen, No peace was there, where ]>eace before was seen. THE APOLLO. 253 Vet lie, pour man, sirove with a (^en'rous li-uiil. To bring her stubborn wili to his conitn.mu. Yet all in vain, no reason would slie hear, Her tongue ran equal wiih the circling \ear. One day she rais'd a storm of voral thunder. Enough to tear the very roof asunder ; She roar'd so load he could no longer stay. But at the alehouse tippl'd all the day. The day sooa passed — but the dread thoughts of night. Black as itself! did sorely him affrii^ht. nriiiifiil ot ale, which did liis spirits cheer, {i^ ^tiggereil Iinne in hopes the coast was clear. And lound her seated in the great arm chair. " -My dear," quoii) he, " I'm glad I've found thee thus, Tell me, my de;i!-, shall I give thee one buss? What not a word, by Jove ! what can this mean. That my good wifes so silent, so serene ?" He sang some caiches, siired up the Hre, Yet not a wonl. which he did much admire. Pleas'd with himseif. transported in his bliss. He gently rose to give his wile one kiss ; He placed his hand to raise her drooping head. When, strange to tell, he foijud his wife was dead ! " r thank thee, Death, this is the only cure, And if thou please, by luy dead wife 1 swear, [ never, never, will be tied again. Since thou hast broke the matrimonial chain ; For this I testify, upon my life, Nothing but death can cure a scolding wife." THE LAND WHICH NO MORTAL MAY KNOW Sung by Mr. IVood. Oh! where are the eyes that once beam'd upon me? And where are the friends I rejoiced once to see ? And where are the hearts that held amity's glow? They're gone to the land which no mortal may know. No. 11. z 'i54 THE APOLLO. When shadows of midnight descend o'er the plain, How drear is the path ot" the wayf'arlnij swain ; let drearer and darker the road I must go. Ere I rest in the land which no mortal may know. Yet pilgrims who roam thro' the gleaming of night. Still hail the bright beams of the dawn coming light. And though the approach of the morning be slow. Its hope kindled ray seems to lessen their woe. And thus when the tear-drop of sorrow I shed. And bend me above the cold tomb of the dead, A ray of the future diffuses its glow. As I look to the land which no mortal may know. ■f^^^^-r MR. AND MRS. G. >Sung by Mr. J. Reeve and Mrs. Fitzwilliam at the Atlelyhi Theatre. i4ir— The Gallopade Quadrillei. He. Oh, Mrs. G, Mrs. G, Suspicion I'm discarding it, To find yoii in another clime. Gaily g^llopading it. I am not sure our marriage bliss Has not sompthing lost or undone, By seeing here in India's strand, Instead of that of London. As a husband I am weary, oh, Of a Siamese no fairy, oh ; So now pray solve this mystery, And tell me your natural history. Oh, Mrs. G, &e. She. Oh, Mr. G, oh, Mr. G, You need of no apology ; You're come yourself in another clime A studying of mytliology. THE APOLLO. 'i55 You've come in search of birds and beasts. Your little wife discarding, So now find that I am here, A gaily gallopading. As a husband yon may be weary, oh. Of a vSiamese no fairy, oh ; So this is all the mystery. And that's my natural history. Oh, Mr. G, &c. He. Oh, Mrs. G, oh, Mrs. G, 1 in a snug first floor, my sweet, Furnisb'd well, in Craven-street, Lett you with Mrs. Dory. S/ie. In a snug first floor) I own that's true. But when you was gone and cash gone too. Soon did Mrs. Dory Oblige me to seek a second here — He. Oh, that's another storj. Both. So we'll gallop, gallop, Gallop, gallopading it. LUTZOVV'S WfLD HUNT. A Glee, for three voices. Major Lutzow commanded a free corps, in the years isl3 Hiid 1814, in liie German war against France. Ttiis C(irps chiefly consisLed of student-;, and from their wcrir- mg a black uniform, they were commonly called the Black ;iiinters. From yonder dark forest what horsemen advance, U'hat sounds from the rocks are rebounding; The suubeams are glancing on sword and on lance, And loud the shrill trumpet is sounding. And if you ask what you there behold. 'Tis the hunt ot Lutzow the free and the bold. V\"hy roars in yon valley the deadly fight? \Vhat glittering swords are clashing? z 2 256 THE APOLLO. Our true hearted riders maintain tlieir right, And the torch of Freedom is flushing-. And if you ask what you there behold, 'Tis the hunt of Lutzovv the free and the bold. 'Tis our hunt ! — the proud.tyrant and dastardly slave Before our hunters are flying; And weep not fpr us ! if our country we saTC, Although we have saved it dying. From age to age it shall still be told 'Twas the hunt of Liitzow the free and the bold. black:-eyed sukey. J?i Original Parody, on " Black-Eyed Susan," by E.Mansci All in the Fleet poor Bill was moor'd, The debtor's box before the cjrate. When blacK-eyed Sukey thus -implored, A sobbing too at a cjreat rate. " Tell me, ye jolly debtors, tell me true. If my dear Billy's caged along with you, Now Billy, who was in the yard. His mind with thoughts rock'd to and fro. When Sukey's well known ash he heard, He cast his eyes, and sighed " heigho !" The stone paved yard he swifty ran o'er, and Quick as thought afure Sukey he did stand. So the cock sparrow in its cage, Shut in and with iron bars bound. Flutters his wings and in a rage. Listens to his mate's sweet sound ; Even {\\e jaiior in tlie Brilish Heet, IMiglit envy Billy's lips those busses sweet. " O, Sukey, Sukey, lovely Suke ! To thee I'll ever true remain: THE AFOLLO. 25 7 Let rae buss oS that pale white look, Though I'm lock'd up we'll meet again : Though keys may turn in locks, my heart shall be, Still true and open, dearest Suke, to thee. " Believe not what the folks all say, Or chaps who may tempt thy good mind. They'll tell thee, though in jail away, I shall in quod a mistress find ; you may believe them when they tell you so. For at my side thou com'st where'er I go. " If to the dark cell I'm confined. Thy eyes like cat's glared on rae bright; Thy breath is like the bleak yard wind. Thy skin is like bine-ruin — white ; Thus ev'ry object objectionable I view, 'Camse my soul it wakes to some charm of Sue. " Though debt now call me from thy arms, Let nor ray pretty Sukey weep, Thtugh duns may roar, I safe from harms. Shall soon again with Sukey sleep ; The duns when i'ra white wash'd must me fly. And Suke and I'll with ruin wet each eye." The jailor gave the dreadful word. With tears their swelling bosoms throb, Their parting word could not be heard. They bussd — Suke sigh'd — Bill hung his nob. With bunch of keys the jailor man so grand, Shov'd out poor Suke — she waved her dark red hand. THE DASHING WHITE SAKJEANT. Ir I had beau For a soldier who'd go, Do you think I'd say no? No, not 1! z 3 258 THE APOLLO. When his red coat I saw Not a siol) would I draw, But I'd give him eclat for his bravery ! If an array of amazons e'er came in play,' As a dasbiug white sarjeant I'd march away. iMarch away, &c. When my soldier was gone D'ye think I'd take on? Sit moping forlorn. No not I ! His fame ray concern, How my bosom would burn, When 1 saw him return crown'd with victory. If an army, &c. THE THORN. From the white-blossom'd sloe, my dear Chloe re- quested A sprig her fair breast to adorn; No. by heav'n, I exclaim'd may I perish If ever I plant in that bosom a thorn. No, by heaven, &c. Then I show'd her a ring, and implor'd her to marry. She blush'd like the dawning of morn. Yes, I'll consent, she replied, if you'll promise That no jealous rival shall laugh me to scorn, No, by heaven, &c. REMARKABLES. An Origi7ial Comic Song, written by T, Prest. Tunc— Jingling Johnny, If you walk much a'lxmt I think you'll own. There's remarkahles plenty in famed London town ; There's remarkable shops ah ! luany a score, Remarkable {\dindL\t& and ladles, I'm sure; THE APOLLO. '259 Eemarkable lops like luonkeys ybe laid, • aye, Richard be that thou ? ' un I said, ' ees, sure it be." HICKLETON FAIR. A much admired Comic Recitation. As I wur ganging out last Sat'day neet to buy half a-pound o' bacon, who shou'd I meet but my old sweetheart Betty Hunt : un she said, " aye, Richard, be that thou?" un 1 said, " ees, sure it be ;" un she said, " Richard, wudn't thee be gaugin to Hickleton Vair at morrow ?" and I said, " I nowd'nt not, haply 1 mought," and Betty la'af'd ; and I said, " I woa'd," and I did, and I went to Hickleton Vair. And so in morning I gotten up, and putten on ray best shoen, cloggen shoen wur out of fashion then, and [ went clink ma clank, clink ma clank all t'way to townend, and vurst I seed vur Betty, standing at her Tather's door, wi' two chaps hanging on either haarm : un I felt all over in sike a conflagration, all my blood gotten into ma knuckles — oh, I'd a nation good mind to gi'en a bat o' t' chops, for Betty took na notice of me; so 1 stared at her, but she minded not I — so I 12. A A •266 THE APOLLO. nudged her at elbow, un elie said, " aye, Richard, be that thou?" and I said, " ees, stire it be;" and she said, " Richard, wou'dn't thee come into house ?" and I said, "ees, I wou'd," and I did, and I went into bouse: and there were a vary many people, vary many indeed, and Betty said, " Richard, wou'dn't thee ha\e a drap u' suin'mat t' drink?" and I said, "ees, 1 would," and 1 did, and I had a drap o' sum- mat t' drink; and I la'af'd, and wur vary luerry, Tary merry indeed: and Betty said, "Richard, wou'dn't thee sing us a song?" and I said, "ees, 1 would," and I did, and chaunted a steave — " The clock had struck, i can't tell what. But the morn came on as grey as a rat ; The cocks and hens from their roosts did fly. Grunting pigs, toe, had left their stye. Down in a vale. Carrying a pail, Cicely was met by her true love Harry ; Vurst they kiss't, Then shook fist, And look'd like two fools just going to marry." Aye, T remember vary weel that wur the vurst song I ever sung Betty Hunt, and she said, " thee'd sing ns another song, wou'dn't thee?" and I said, " ees, I wou'd," and I did, and [ sung'd another song — aye, I remember vary weel that wur the last song I ever sung poor Betty ; un at last I said, " 1 must be gang- ing, Betty," and she said, " well, when thee wo't, Richard, when thee wo't;" and I said, "thee'd cum and see ma sumra'at way whoam," and she said she would, and she did, and she seed me a bit'nt way — all the way to townend ; and I said, " Betty thee'd gi' us a buss, wou'dn't thee," and she said, " ees^ she wou'd," and she did, and she giv'd me a bu«s, " Weel, Betty, thee't let lue cum and see thee at morrow neet," and she said " an thee we't, Richard :" so I THE APOLLO. 267 gang mysen whoam and gotten to bed, and went at morrow neet to meet Betty — eigbt o'clock, and na Betty — nine o'clock, ten o'clock, and na Betty — eleven, twelve o'clock, and na Betty ; so 1 tho't I'd gang mysen whoam; so, in the morning I were told poor Betty wur vary badly, vary badl} indeed; and she had sent to see ma; so I went to see poor Betty, and she said, " Richard, if I shcui'd dee, theed goo to ma burying, woa'dn't thee ?" and I said, " I now'dnt not, haply 1 mought," so I said '* I wou'd," and I did, and I went to her burying, for poor Eett} deed; and I ne'er goo through Hickleton church-yard without dropping a tear to the memory of poor Betty Hunt. THE ARAB STEED. A favorite song, from the Arabic, The Arab steed, the arab steed, Across the desert flying. With arched neck exerts his speed. All vain pursuit defying; The simoon's glance, The robber's lance. Alike pass fruitless by ; Across the plain. They seek in vain My Arab steed and I. The Arab steed, the Arab steed, O'er the war plain bounding. Is with me in the hour of need, Tho' death is flying round him; Though sabres gleam, And lances beam, And baffled foenien try ; They scour the plain. And seek in vain My Arab steed and I. A A 2 268 THE APOLLO. THE CHIMNEY SWEEPER'S DAUGHTER. i4ir— There* nae luck. Ov, tell me not of courtship's joys. Too seldom they are foHnd, Alas, it does more frequently With misery abound ; 1 know you all will pity me, When I relate the torture I underwent through courting of A chimney sweeper's daughter. Fol lol, &c. T met her near White Conduit House, Bedeck'd with every charm, I strutted boldly up and ask'd If she would take my arm ; She soon complied and in we trudged, Partook of gin-and-water, 'Twas then I found she only was, A chimney sweeeper's daughter. Fol lol, &c. We staid there till quite late at night, And all my cash was spent, I then politely ask'd to go, She nodded her consent ; But scarcely had I got outside, (A charming girl I thought her), When loud the cry of " watch" I heard. From the chimney sweeper's daughter. Fol lol, &c. 1 stood amazed, no limb could move. The watch soon gather'd round, One with his staff gave me a knock, That sent me to the ground : THE APOLLO. 269 That niau Las robb'd me of my purse, Pray shew the rogue no quarter. You'll find it if you search hira. sirs. Said the chimney sweeper's daughter. Fol lol. &c. They turn'd my pockets inside out, But with it could not meet. At last when searching on the ground. They found it near my feet; To prison then they took me off. In Tain the girl 1 sought her, For she was gone — alas ! I cried. Deceitful sweeper's daughter. Fol lol, &c. Next morning to the magistrate, Poor I they did surrender. And one and all they told him that, I was an old offender ; What was the person he has robb'd? A lady, sir, we thought her. Oh, no, I cried, she only was A chimney sweeper's daughter. Fol lol, &c. No matter who it was, said he. You seem, sir, an adept. To prison therefore you must go, At labour to be kept. 1 work'd three weeks at treading mill, With only bread and water; 1 can't help cursing, even now, The chimney sweeper's daughter. Fol lol, &c. A A 3 270 THE APOLLO. BUY MY HEARTS! Come, buy my hearts, I've hearts to sell. Maids, come and buy 'em; I've every sort What can be bought. Pray come and try 'em. For those who range, I've hearts to change, Hearts to lend or borrow ; And some so light. At close of day They'll take their flight- So, maids, you may Choose again to-morrow. Come, buy my hearts, &c. I've hearts for age, So cold and sage. Gold alone can win 'em. I've hearts for youth. So warm, that glow With love and truth. And tease you so. The very devil's in 'em,&c. I've hearts a few, So fond and true, Nought but death can stay 'em. But ere you buy, Think, maidens, well, The price is high — List while I tell — Heart for heart must pay 'em. Come buy my hearts, &c. THE APOLLO. 271 THE BASHFUL MAN. (W. H. Freeman.) Air— Adam and E»e, Kind gentlefolks, I come before yoa. To tei! a verj funny story; And hope to find instead of laughter. You'll Sympathise in my disaster. By bashfuloess I so perplex'd am. And every day by blushes vex'd am, That I no longer can endure it, Yet daily strive in vain to cure it ; For be bold, O dear, [ never can. So I pray you pity a bashful man. Spoken.] A few days ago, \ went to a public dinner, 1 did, — when just before we were seated, I overturned an inkstand ; and to prevent it from being seen, immediately wiped it up with my white pocket handkerchief. But being asked at dinner for some turtle soup, in handing it across the table, I shook so violently, that I — \ let the whole contents of the tureen fall into a lady's lap. In endeavouring to repair which mischief, I fell over my chair: and to save myself, catching hold of the table-cloth, drew •every thing after me, depositing dishes, decanters, butter-boats, and tureens into the laps of belles and beaux. Almost scalded to death myself, 1 scrambled up, and in my phrensy tore out my white pocket handkerchief to wipe the perspiration from my face; which, being completely soaked with ink, gave rather the appearance of a demon than a man to my coun- tenaace. So that in spite of the disaster, the com- pany burst into one continued peal of laughter; so I rushed from the room in an agony of tlie greatest despair, exclaiming — Be bold, Stc. Then I'm observed where'er ['m going. And each one would my name be knowing; 5, K 272 THE APOLLO. " La ! there's a raodest looking creature. With bashfulness in every feature." They call my face a lump of ochre. And say I'm stiff as the kitchen poker; And when, O dear, a lady calls me, 1 shake as if Cd got the palsy. For be bold, &c. Spoken.] A few evenings ago, ! went to a public ball, I did — bat had the misfortune to tread on the tail of a lady's gown, which rent it completely from top to bottom ; and whilst, with a most polite bow, endeavouring to beg her pardon, my foot slipped, and down I fell on my nose. Well, in rising to retire to my own seat, I went and placed myself on tne knee of a lady, whose husband immediately advanced and very politely roused me from my reverie, by a violent tweak of the nose. I began to stammer out an apology, but my tongue stuck so fast to the roof of my mouth — and covered with blushes I stood the laughing stock of the whole room, just like a red cabbage with a wig stuck on, for — Be bold, &c. Whene'er by chance I walk the street, oh, I'm sure to blush at all I meet, oh ! And if I try to keep it under, I'm sure to make some cursed blunder: And people when of me they talk. Call me a walking-stick of red chalk; In short, what with despair and sadness, I soon shall rave with bashful madness. For be bold, &c. Spoken.] T'other day I took it into my head to get married, but when I got into the church, O dear, I was so bashful, that when the parson ask'd me if I'd have the lady for my wife — 1 — I — I answered, "just as you please, sir." The lady in great anger refused THE APOLLO. 273 me, and left the church. So now I'm called the "Bashful Bachelor." Bat T soon mean to try and — there now, that lady will look at me ; 1 declare it melts all my courage — so I'd better be going — singing, Be bold, &;c. THE DEATH SONG. (Miss L. E. Landon.) Are the roses all faded, that thus you should wear A wreath from the dark cypress tree in your hair? Are the violets wiiLerd, that funeral green Should thus 'uiid your long golden tresses be seen? Come, maiden, the evening's last crimson has dyed With the hue of its blushes the pearls at your side; And wreathed flowers like summer's |are bright in each fold Of the white robe whose border is heavy with gold. Oh father, my father, now urge me no more ; No footstep of miue will be light on the floor; The shroad cold and white is the robe I shall wear ; Now look on my face, is not death written there? It came on the night wind, it came in the hour, Wlien the planet siiines forth and the spirit has power: I heard the sad music that wailing past by; It call d me, my father, it cali'd me to die. 1 heard that wild singing the night that she died, ]My own gentle sister, her last sigh replied : Attain I have listen'd that funeral tone ; 1 knew 'twas the death song, 1 knew 'twas my own. 1 am weeping, but not for this summons, ray tears They fall for your lonely, your desolate years : I see the old hearth, but its gladness is gone ; J see the green forest, you walk there alone. 274 THE APOLLO. By the side of my sister's they'll haug up my lute. But, unless the wind wake them> hencet'ortb to be mute. Our vault will be open'd with torch-light and song; VVe must part there, my father, we part not for lon^. They say to the words of the hying are given A spirit that is not of earth but of heaven. Be strong in thy sorrow, and meek in thy pain : My father, we met, and for ever, again. THE DEEP, DEEP SEA Sung by Mr. Horn. Oh ! come with me, my love. And our fairy home shall be Where the water spirits rove. In the deep, deep sea ! There are jewels riih and rare, In the caverns of the deep; And to braid thy raven hair. Where the pearl treasures sleep. In a tiny man of war. Thou shall stam tee ocean wide ; Or in a crystal car. Like a queen in all her pride. Oh, come, &c. Ah ! believe that love may dwell. Where the coral branches twine ; And that every wreath'd shell Breathes a tune so soft as thine. Hope, as fond as thou would prove, Truth as bright as e'er was told ; Hearts as warm as those al>ove. Dwell under the waters cold. Ob, come, &c. THE APOLLO. 275 THE VVILD riUITAR. Oh, wilt thou leave thy father's halls, To wander forth with me ? And quit those long lov'd cherish'd walls, When thou art blest and free ! To seek awhile the quiet stream, Reflecting ev'ry star ; And listen, as in fancy's dream. Unto my wild guitar. I cannot boast of wealth or power. That dwells from love apart; But if thou'lt share my simple bower, I'll give thee all my heart. And when the shades of eve appear, I'll rove beneath a star; And sing the song thou lov'st to hear. Unto my wild guitar. BID ME DISCOURSE. Bid me discourse, I will enchant thine ear, Or like a fairy trip upon the green ; Or like a nymph with bright and flowing hair, Dance on the sands and yet no footing seen. IF I HAD A DONKEY WOT WOULD'NT GO. Air — Dasbiug White Serjeant. If I had a donkey Wot would'nt go. Do you think I'd say gee ho? Blow my eye ; If he would'nt draw, I'd feed him on straw, And give him a crack for his knavery. 276 THE APOLLO. If a party of donkies e'er came In his way. And he got nibbling another cove's hay, Wot cracks 'Id pay, Wot cracks I'd pay. If I took him out clean. To bring home the green, 'Twould give me the spleen, Blow my eye ! If a hay-cart was near And the cove wouldn't hear, Vhen I rais'd a beautiful cry. If a party, &c. On Sundays nice and. smart. Should I take out my cart, To treat my sweetheart. Blow my eye ! If he began to kick, I'd give him the stick And a jolly good vhopping for his knavery. If a party, &c. Vhen I took the cove home, And to bed I was gone, If he began to groan. Blow my eye ! Vith his noisy he haw, I'd take away his straw, And leave him alone on the stones to lie. If a party, Sic. HERE'S A HEALTH TO THE K[NG, HUZZA! (C. Pope.) AW — When the southern breezes blow. Here's a health to the king, huzza ! Here's Old England with three times three ; .■\nd long may her heroes, proudly sway The empire of the sea. THE APOLLO. 277 While the goblet sparkles bright, Let music and mirth combine. To drown old Care this festive night.. In soul-reviving wine. Here's a health to the king, huzza ! Here's Old England with three times three; And long may her heroes proudly sway The empire of the sea. Fill high ! and the cup of joy Shall be pledged with a warm delight; And hoary Time shall ne'er destroy The mem'ry of this night. Here friendsbipand ruby wine Shall the cares of the world assuage; Shall raise in youth a glow divine. And thaw the ice of age. Here's a health, &c. Let the miser boast of wealth, And the tyrant boast of pow'r ; Be ours the joys of smiling health, To cheer the festive hour. Here's may despots who'd enslave From Freedom's throne be hurl'd; And may Britannia's banners wave Triumphant o'er the world. Here's a health, 8ic. God bless thee, Albion's isle ! Thy William's flag unfurl'd Shall bid commercial blessings smilt Around the grateful world. Thy sons shall disdain to smart Beneath a tyrant's yoke ; And boast a patriot king, whose heart Is English heart of oak. Here's a health, &.c. 12 B B 278 THE APOLLO. THE VISJON. A Recitation, written expressly as a Vehicle for Imitations, Tired with the tedious service of the stage, The wrongs of Lear and Zanga's vengeful rage; Some friendly elbow-chair received ray weight. Where popt beneath the near exhausted grate, I closed my drowsy eyes, and snored in state. Now imagination takes her reign, Enthron'd majestic, o'er the subject brain ; With vain creation cheats the slumb'ring sense, Curb'd by no power, and bounded by no fence. Methought I stood amidst a spacious court Of antic shapes, a general resort. Where high advanced, imperial Garrick sate, In all the mockery of mimic state : Here rang'd the fool, the pedant, and the page, With lisping infancy, and bearded age ; The fawning Frenchman, and the lordly Scot, The Dutchman cold, the Welchman fiery hot. But passing vulgar times regardless by, Towards the throne I cast a woudring eye ; Where stood a matchless form, brimful of mirth, (For humour's God presided at his birth,) Of ample bulk, round paunch, and jocund face, The first in excellence, as first in place ; And thus he cried — " Boy, bring a cup of sack — " Plague on all cowards — Go thy ways, old Jack. " Die when thou wilt, if courage been't forgot, — ■ " Cramp this plump carcase in a gallipot ! " Well, soon or late, old Honesty must die — "Come, sirrah, t'other cup, for sorrow's dry."* Close to the pamper'd knight, a fustian knave, In phrase heroic loudly seem'd to rave ; Big were his looks, and stately was his stride, Like dunghill cock, majestically wide. • Sir John FalsUff— Henry IV. THE APOLLO. 279 " Base Phrypan Tark !" he thus kegan to rant, « Shall Pistol yield ? No, by the Gods, he shan't ! " First crush, consume, my stout Herculean blade, "Bankrupt the fates, and cheat 'em of their trade."* The next, which neither male nor female seem'd, A very slip of nature might be deem'd ; For woman's fear possess'd the soul of man. And thus the dubious animal began : " How can you serve me so, you naughty creeter ? "I vow, miss, you're the giddiest thing in nature, " Egad, you've flurried me to ^uch a tune, " That, lud, my drops, my drops, or I shall swoon. "f Rage, grief, distraction, pictur'd in his face Hear hobbling avarice unfold his case. "Rogues! rascals! thieves! I'm dead, I'm murdered, slain ! " My gold ! my gold ! give me my gold again — "What? who? where' when? Im into madness hurl'd; " I'll hang, drown, burn myself, and all the world."t The next a fop ordain'd to shine a peer. To move in vanity's exalted sphere, And with soft nonsense charm the female ear. Light were his heels, yet lighter was bis bead ; And thus he spoke, while thus Lis note he fed. " Gads curse! this qualitjs a charming thing. " O ! the delights oi park, play, hall, and ring. " Your ladyship's slave — my lard, I kiss your hand ; " Well, stap my vitals now, 'lis vastly grand.''^ Not far, with awkward raeiu and shambling pace, A genuine son of nature took his place. The simple wit of some uuletter'd race. • Pistol— Henry IV. t Fribble— Miss in her Teens. I Lovegold— Miser. § Lord Foppinglun— Relapse. B B '2 280 THE APOLLO. " \\ east heart ! he cry'd, I'm glad I've fun ye aut, " Laud, measter, measter ! such a waundy rout ! " Some devil's prank or oother aw th' lang day, " Well ! marcy on us, whoam is whoam, I say."* The next an honest though a formal fool. Who spoke by method, and who laugh'd by rule. Each step, each look was uniformly just, And ev'ry step was measured by the first. " He ! he ! he ! he ! your honour has no par — " You'll pardon me for being jocular; " Albeit, there are thiee reasons good, therefore " First, nature wilieth — stay — let's shut the door "f Not the least in name, appear'd amidst the nog The face of winter in the gard of spring: Taste rul'd his head, and g3liantry his heart ; Age and disease possessed each other part. "This cursed cough! here, Brush, the eau de luce, "So, pretty well — Canton, you dog, what news? " Hey, by the lord, this girl has made me new, " Aii powerful can every pain subdue. " O curse that twinge ! — the deuce, 'twill never do."J Stareh'd was the next, and straight was every lock, The simple shepherd of a simple flock. By cant misled, and vague, eccentric bawl. He cries — " 1 wants to preach, I've had a tall, " We us'd to keep a shop, sell beer and gin, " But I don't know, t .Links it is a sin ; "So now I prays, and reads, and prays again, "And they say, as how, 1 have turn'd my brain. "§ Here through the court a inurm'ring laugh was heard, When lo, a son of comic niirili appeared ^ Rous'd from the midnight slumbers of his bed, One stocking grac'd his heel, and oae his head. • lohn Mt>ody — Provoked Husband, t Vellum Dfummer. j Loid Ogleby— Cliindestiii^e Marriage. i Maw wurm — Hypocrite. THE APOLLO. 281 "Thieves ! ruurder ! popery ! loud roar'd the knave, " O ! sir, take my life, spare all I have ; " Down on your marrow bones ! O Lord ! O Lord! " Just five and forty, sir, with fire and sword."* The next a motley slave, whose sable face Bespoke a man of Afric's race; Beneath a pond'rous hamper seemM oppress'd ; And thus the ioit'ring rogue himself address'd. " Dam old massa. now curse him old head ! " Send me one devil errand, till me dead ; " Here, dere, up, down, by day, by night — old pog, " He make me toiiy, like a mule, by gog."-{- And now the phrenzy forc'd, a ghost to follow. Was seen a prince, a gentleman, and a scholar; Whose filial duty wrought his troubled mind, His father's foe and murderer to find. The spring of antic rage his mind o'erflows. Till what the ghost has said he fully knows. That true it is, dramatic action shews. The players ready arg'd by his direction. Hold forth the bane of woman's disaffection. A father kill'd ; what son this act can pardon? His name Gonzargo — murder'd in the Garden. " Let the stricken dear go wee^, "The hart ungall'd go play ; "Some will watch while others sleep ; "So runs the world away."! Thus far mine eye received the mimic crowd. When Id ! the nightly watchman bawling loud. With wonted accent roar'd " past one o'clock,'' That frighted fancy trembled at the shock ; The powerful sound upon my slumber broke, I started, rubb'd mine eyes^ and so awoke. • Scrub— Stratagem. t Mungo— Padlock. Hamlet. bb3 282 THE APOLLO. YE MARINERS OP ENGLAND. Ye mariners of England, Who guard our native seas. Who i"or these thousand years have brav'd The battle and the breeze ; Your glorious standard launch again. And match another foe. And sweep through the deep. While the stormy winds do blow. While the stormy winds do blow. While the stormy winds do blow, While the battle rages long and loud. And the stormy winds do blow. The spirits of your fathers Will start from every wave; The deck it was their field of fame, The ocean was their grave. Where Blake, the boast of freedom, fought Your manly hearts will glow; And you sweep through the deep, While the stormy winds do blow. While the stormy, &c. Britannia needs no bulwarks. No towers along the steep ; Her march is o'er the mountain-wave. Her home is on the deep : With thunder from her native oak. She quells the floods below. As she sweeps through the deep. While the stormy winds do blow. While the stormy, &c. The meteor-flag of England Must yet terrific burn, Till the stormy night. of war depart, And the star of peace ret^urn. THE APOLLO. 28» Then to our faitlitnl mariners. The social can <}iall flow. Who swept through the deep, VVhiie the storray winds did blow. While the stormy winds did blow, VVhile the stormy wirds did blow. While the battle raged lon^- and load. And the storm of war did blow. YES, YES, THOU ART REMEMBER'D STiLL. jln answer to "Oh no, we never mention ber."' Mus.c publithed by W , Wjbrow, 24, Ralhboiie Piace Yes, yes, thou art remember'd still, Though now torn from each spot so dear ; With them my mem'ry loves to dwell, And proves the source of sorrow's tear. Gay fashion's scenes contey no charms They cannot smother keen regret ; Though forc'd in them to bear a part. They cannot force me to forget. Though forc'd, &c. Yes, yes, thou art remember'd still, Also the scenes where we have stray'U ; The grot so calm, the purpling rill^ Or daisy sweet besprinkled glade. Ambition's mandate now is past. Thus the bright hours of love are set; What though these joys were not to last, They cannot teach us to forget. What though. Sec. Yes, yes, though art remember'd still. Time, place, or power will cause no cbaoge ; Fond hope oft plays about my heart. And in her visions sweet 1 range. 284 THE APOLLO. TliPse heavy hours may pass away. With them the cause of our regret ; TLere yet may corae a happy day. When we past sorrows shall forget. There yet may, &c. Yes, I'll still remember thee. Though hurried on from scene to scene; No force can raze ray constancy. Thy image still will intervene. I'll quit the gayest of the gay, ' To retrace the scenes where we have met; Hut if those joys return no more, I never, never can forget. But if those joys, &c. OHi COULD I BUT FORGET THEE. (T. W.) Oh ! could I but forget thee, What joys would then be mine ; I'd banish grief far from me. And drown my woes in wine. But whilst thy fairy smile. Which oft on me was bent. Reminds me of thy guile Then — then my heart is rent In vain I seize the goblet, And e'en its dregs I drain; Oblivion waits not on it, Alas ! 'tis all in vain. Nor wine, nor friends can charm me. My hopes of bliss are flown ; Yet still I would not harm thee I'll learn to sigh alone. THE APOLLO. 285 REFORM. (T. Hudson.) Look round you east, west, north and south, Youll find every man in the nation Is bawling with wide open mouth For reform, 'stead of minding his station, 111 hold forth a picture or two, Though my fancy is not very warm ; You'll judge when the features you view, That we all stand in need of reform. The cobbler, St. Monday who keeps, As drunk as a lord and as great. See into the newspaper peeps. To know how goes matters of state ; His money all gone home he reels, Tbumps his wife who can't fly from the storm ; Tells her there's wheels within wheels, And the nation must have a reform. The flashy young tradesmen, then see. Who whisks in his gig in such style, A girl by his side, who but he, His creditors suffering the while ; His pleasures he cannot retrench, He fills both his pockets so warm ; Jumps into the fieei (ir the Bench, And stays there three months for reform. If you e'er catch a cold and are ill, The doctor comes in with much fuss. Prescribes a draught, bolus, and pill. And charges for making you worse; Undertakers are on the look out. If you die you'r released from each qualm. And laid in your coffin so stout, Youil have no time left for reform, 286 THE APOLLO. By chance should you e'er go to law. Success your attorney assures, And tells you that he never saw A cause half so certain as yours ; Six or seven years dwindle away, Your cause goes to pot in a storm. And you've all expences to pay, — Oh law ! don't we want a reform? The great men who think themselves nobs. With liquor their senses refine. And swear, just like so many snobs, That drinking is really divine; The married man slily slips out, To meet his kept lady so warm. Returns — and his wife makes a rout, And a lecture she gives on reform. Another great man I could name. Who sits at the head of the boat ; Who's gained to him lasting fame, For planning a soldier's new coat; He's lov'd by his neighbours so well. His virtues are always kept warm, And though some folks rail at him pell mell. He certainly don't want reform. And BOW as my verses are done, I'll bring all ni) thouu hit, to a close, Hoping that you every cue, VS ill do all you can vice to expose ; Remember, each for his own sake, He's a ship toss'd about in life's storm ; And the way Heaven's harbour to make Is to steer with full sail for feform. THE APOLLO. 287 OH ! THINK NOT I AM FALSE. (J. G. King.) rAir — Ob,faay not woman'i lore is bought. Oh ! think not I am false as air, Which perhaps a moment changes; Oh ! think not I love dark or fair. Just as my fancy ranges. For the love which in my bosom glows, 1 swear can wander never ; Within mine heart thy image grows, And there shall grow for ever. Oh ! thiak not I am idly caaght. By ev'ry passing beauty , Oh ! think not I can e'er be taught. To swerve, love, from my duty. Thy beauteous smiles have won my heart, 1 adore thee, though we sever ; I swear, dear girl, although apart, That I will love thee ever. TEDDY MACSHANE AND JUDY MACREE. (Redford Clisby.) Sung by Mr. Saker. Tune— WWW Riddle. OcH ! 'twas Judy Macree, That so bother'd me, I scarcely knew what to be at. For whenever I Judy chanced to espy. My heart always went pit a pat ; 1 met her one day, As she walk'd on the quay. And to tell her my mind I was fain, Says I, " Judy Macree, Will you consent to be The wife of nate Teddy Macshane." 288 THE APOLLO. "OcL !" says I, " I haTe got, A snug little cot, Some praties and whiskey beside. And If I'm not mistaken, A flitch of fat bacon, That, love, only wants to be fried; Then do not be scorning My friendly warning. If yoa do you'll be much to blame, Then let us away, now, To father Macshea, now, And he'll soon make you Mistress Macshane." She gave her consent, To church we soon went. And I was the happiest of men, But the honey-moon past, Och ! I soon, alas ! Wlsh'd myself single again ; For Judy, oh, evil ! Soon turn'd out a devil. And her blows often gave me much pain. For morn, noon, and night. We did nothing but fight. Such a sweet temper had Mistress Macshane. [ rose up one morning. As day was a-dawning, Resolv'd to get rid of my woes, Out of the room creeping, I left Judy sleeping. And away to the quay off I goes; I soon made a bargain, With Captain .Macpargin, Resolv'd ne'er to see Judy again. The money 1 handed, In England 1 lauded. And for ever left Mistress Macshane. THE APOLLO. •289 ' A bod of bricks he sent upon tbem pell-mell. Anil heart-broken then, from the scaffold he fell. PADDY MAHONEY AND KATTY MALONE. (Prest.) 7un«— Thurap'em the Drummer. Paddy Mahoney was genteel and tall, Hubaboo, filliloo, rare O ! His nose it was large, and his peepers were small, Hubaboo, filliloo, rare O ! His nose was as red as a buttock of beef. And Lis face look'd indeed like a monkey in grief; But in stealing girls' hearts, sure he was a great tiefl Hubaboo, filliloo, gramachree filliloo ! Whack rowdy filliloo, rare O ! In a shindy or row he was first too, ocb hone ! Hubaboo, &c. And in one Mr. Paddy saw Katty Malone, Hubaboo, &c. 13. c c 290 THE APOLLO. Her sweet legs of bow took tbe heau hy surprise, And he fell slap in love to his oars and his e^^es ; He nadged her, and gave her a heart full of sighs, Hubaboo, &c. Pat puU'd up his breeches, and her did address, Hubaboo, &ic. He 8igh'd,and implored that his hopes she would bless, Hubaboo, &c. Says he, " my swate creteer, I love you alone, I'm a gent., can't you see ? and a hod too I own ;" — " [t's odd if you gets me, said Katty Malone, Hubaboo, &c. Paddy once more did his passion unfold, Hubaboo, &c. From a knock of her fist in the kennel he roll'd, Hubaboo, &c. He halloo'd and bawl'd but, " I'm murder'd, och hone 1 This night from a halter 1 will dangle down !" " And the devil hang wid ye !" says Katty Malone. Bubaboo, &c. Next morning, as Pat on a scaffold stood high, Hubaboo, &c. He saw Miss Malone and a chummy walk by, Hubaboo, Stc. It grieved him so much that — the truth I must tell, A hod of bricks he sent upon them pell-mell. And heart-broken then, from the scaffold he fell, Hubaboo, &c. Now, hard-hearted wixens, be warn'd by my song, Hubaboo, &c. And when you walk out with your lovers along, Hubaboo, &c. Don't pass near the spot where a rival may be, Remember poor Katty, and then you'll agree That love's god wl^n he's vex'd quite a devil may be. Hubaboo, &;c. THE APOLLO. 291 NAY, SMILE NOT AT MY SULLEN BROW. (By run.) Nay, smile not at my sullen brow, Alas ! I cannot smile again ; Yet beav'n avert that ever thou Sliould'st weep, and haply weep in vain. And dost thou ask what secret woe I bear, corroding joy and youth? And wilt thou vainly seek to know A pang e'en thou must fail to soothe ? What exile from himself can flee? To zones though more and more remote^ Still, still pursues, where'er I be. The blight of life, the demon thought, Let others rapt in pleasure seem. And taste of all that I forsake ; Oh, may they still of transport dream. And ne'er, at least like me awake. WHAT A WONDERFUL PLACE IS LONDON. Sung hy Mr. G. Boynes. Air — Walker the Two-penny Postman. Oi!, London's the place, and you'll not find another. If you travel one end of the world to the other. Such a place for invention, deception and bother — What a wonderful place is London. Such wonderful things are advertised. More wonderful things are yet advised. The streets and roads are Macadamized, Because it's the pride of London. Its the age of invention no one will deny. To invent something new ev'ry one has a try. We sha'n't have old people by-and-by, It must be all new in London, cc 2 29-2 THE APOLLO. New chapels and churches and bridges also. New weights and measures, I suppose you all know. That measure was wanted a long- time ago, For there's very light weight in London. There*s rivals In blacking, and whiting of walls, Our gentry give capital suppers and balls. The beadles upset the old women's stalls. That's a rascally shame in London. And most of our grocers were lately at fault, In mixing with sugar a dose of salt. And our beer tastes of every thing else but malt, — What a rascally place is London. 'I'here's companies raised, and not a few, For making of bricks, and selling sky-blue. They swear it's all creaai, but that won't do. To gammon the folks in London. There's portable gas, and washing by steam, And hatching of eggs, of which no oue would dream> And our lottery puffers have got a new scheme. To catch the flats in London. Foreign wonders we've got too of every sort. The fat, the long, the tall, and the short; But a very lean one has lately been brought Over from France to London. The living skeleton, call'd Surat, Lots of bone, but devil a bit of fat. And very little else — but mum for that ; He can't outdo our women in London. There's our cattle so well protected of late. We can't get to see a pretty bull-bait, Or you're haul'd off to Bow-street, as sure as fate. By a long-ear'd man in liondon. Our liberty's come to a pretty pass, A man must not even kick his own ass, You're fined ten shillings — a pretty farce ! Such wonderful law in Londom THE APOLLO. 293 There's a radical man, whu puffing does scorn. Drives about matchless blacking and roasted corn. And plays pretty tunes on the bugle horn, To please the folks in London. For forty pounds you may have a ride in a balloon, And just take a peep at your friends in the moon; Vou'll be able to walk under the Thames very soon — What a wonderful place is London. If you go to the play you see nothing but frights. To see them the clearer they put out the lights. And then there's a dance of hobgoblins and sprites. To please the folks in London. Such horrible things are now to be seen, Der Freischutz, Faustus, and Frankenstein, That frightens the children from three to thirteen, It suits the taste of London. There's elopements and daels and many rum rigs. By the tip-tops of fashion, our dandies and prigs, It gives plenty of work for the men in big wigs — That's quite the go in London. If a gemman offends you quite cool and calm Fle'll give you a card, and think it no harm To tip you a bullet next day at Chalk-farm, That will settle your bash in London. MAID OF MY SOUL. (W. H. Freeman.) Maid of my soul, no words can tell. The anguish of this aching heart As from thy lips falls " fare-tbee-well,*^ As the hour draws nigh that we must part. Yet, dearest maid, though fate decree, That for a time we meet no more. Thy vows shall all remember'd be. Whilst wand'ring on a distant shore, c c 3 «294 THE APOLLO. Though foaming seas betwixt us roll, And far apart we're doora'd to be. So firm my love, uiaid of my soul. That next to heaven I'll worship thee. BEHOLD ME, SUNG HASSAN, THE FEARLESS AND FREE. (Sir Walter Scotl.) Behold me, sung Hassan, the fearless and free, On the steed which obeys not a rider but me. That points like the quills of the eagle his ears, And whose bound in the desert's as light as the deer's. Behold me, with sabre new-sharpen'd and bright. With pistols new-fllnted and burnish'd for fight; My cap with fresh scarlet so gaily bedone. And my baldrick of silver that gleams in the sun. When my true love espies me, the heart in her breast Shall beat quick as the pigeon's when robb'd of her nest ; She will hush the hoarse watch-dog, and hie to the grove, That the eye of her kindred espy not her love. Yet let them descry me, their wrath 1 defy. And why should she tremble when Hassan is nigh? Like the hawk from the covey selecting his prey. From the midst of her tribe would I bear her away. I would mount her behind me, sung Hassan the free, On the steed which obeys not a rider but me. That points like the quills of the eagle his ears, And whose bound in the desert's as light as the deer's. For I come with sabre new-sharpen'd and bright. With pistols new-flinted and burnish'd for fight. My cap with fresh scarlet so gaily bedone. And my baldrick of silver that gleams in the sun. THE APOLLO. 295 MY OLD UNCLE ROBIN. An Original Comic Song, written by T, Roche. My old uncle Robin were such an old tyke. If you rummaged all Essex you'd not find his like. Bless your soul, he were up to all manner of things, He could cripple wild rabbits and clip a crow's wings. And nibble the magpieathat perch'd on the rails. By sprinkling salt on their innocent tails. Spoken.]. Love your heart, ray uncle Robin were an out and out clever chap as ever were. He could do such a desperate sight of things. Would you be- lieve it? when he were a nation small gaffer not higher than that 'ere or thereabouts, he were what is called a reg'lar janus, and Parson Riggle of our village used to say as how it were a mortal pity he hadn't his hroughtings up at a coal-hedge. What he meant by that 'ere I can't say, but this I know, •that when the old chap wanted me to do a few of his odd jobs for him, he used to say as how T were the only one of the family that were like my uncle Robin, and I'm apt to think he were right. Odds bobs! my uncle Robin were a powerful clever chap. What a pity, odds dickens ! he's laid in the ground, Were he here he'd enlighten you all I'd be bound : Gadzooks! he'd enlighten you all I'd be bound. He could spell^ write, and cipher, chew carrots also. Swig ale and eat bacon, write verses and mow ; Sing psalms, play the fiddle, and roll on the green. And for larking with milkmaids his like were ne'er seen ; He was clever in all things both little and big. He could out-mag aunt Sukey and comb her old wig. Spoken.] I should think he could and no mistake, for he were deeply lamed in single stick, and were 296 THE APOLLO, so well acquainted with tlie tripping-iip science tbat he could shove the poor old soul on the flat of her back in less time than a chap would be saying Jack Robinson. VVhat a pity, &c. He were master of music, a thrasher of oats. An out and out glazier, a mender of coats ; He could make globes and noggins, build hay-ricks and sheds, Loclc'dhoops like a good un, and dealt in pigs'-heads, Pipes, salmon, and pepper, red-herrings and snuffs, Ducks, ginger, and lap-dogs, and prime apple-puffs. Spoken.] Bless your heart, my uncle Robin dealt in every thing and could do any thing, he were such a ponderous clever chap. Why he once made a poet on parson Riggle's black pig, and more than that he did it in a cart in ten minutes. Odds feckens ! he were a mighty clever chap were my uncle Robin. What a pity, &c. He likewise sold treacle, twine, trotters, and corks. Hops, mustard and cow-heels, cock-sparroows, and forks ; He were noted for grinding and lugging teeth out, He could take off a quaker, make sermons and spout ; He could brew, leap, and whistle, and thatch a pig- stye, Knit stockings, fry pancakeS;and couch a chap's eye. Spoken.] I'll tell you a prime story about my uncle Robin : you must know as he were a wheeling a barrow before him, what the dickens should pop upon him but a dog — no it wa'n't a dog neither, for if I recollects right my uncle Robin said it were a bitch, but that's of no consequence ; well, this here thing were as mad as mad could be, and it made a desperate bounce at my uucle Robin. Well, what should he do but get out of its way, and when it THE APOLLO. 207 5(iund nothing better to tackle it pitched into the barrow, and never a bit ol" it did it leave till it had gnawed the leg off on it. Well, when it were sick and tired of the barrow, it bolted away like fun and laid hold of a. sufnmut else, an old woman or sutnmut of that kind, but that's of no consequence. Well, when uncle Robin seed the state the barrow were in, be were woundedly afraid it would go stark staring mad like; so what should he do but get a rope and tie it up in the wash-house and sprinkle its leg with salt and water, and, if you'll believe me, never a bit of it went beside itself. What da you think of that, now ? Want he a clever chap ? What a pity, &c. THE BELLS, AT EVE, WERE RINGINO. (W. Ball.) Music published by W . George, corner of St. Bride's ^eniiei Fleet St. The bells, at eve, were ringing, And softly came the gale. Their mournful music flinging Along the twilight vale ; Bright eyes beside me glisten'd, That sweet, that lovely time ; And friends, now parted, listen'd The echoes of their chime. " Farewell ? for evermore, farewell !" They said, or seero'd to say, "No more we waft our airy spell Around your mutual way : Farewell, farewell ! ^ " The love, that, as the dial Was true, in sunshine past. Must go to brave the trial, Amid the worldly blast ; 298 THE APOLLO. And some will slowly falter, Wbo leave this fading scene. And others quickly alter As love had never been. Farewell, for evermore, farewell ! Ye pilgrims of a day; No more we waft our airy spell Around your mutual way: Farewell, farewell ! " But if, for solace burning. Some loved one, worth the test. Shall seek it, here returning. Here be the wand'rer blest. When mourning hearts divided. Oh ! may he feel that heav'n A friend has kindly guided Where yet a friend has given. Farewell, for evermore, farewell ! Regard our parting lay ; No more we waft our airy spell Around your mutual way : Farewell, farewell !" MR. POWDER AND MR. BAGG. An Original Comic Duit, written b;/ E. Manner, and siwg bif Messrs. Godfrey atid Kent. Air— When I was an infant. Bat/g. Heigiio ! O dear ; what shall I do ? Alack a day ! tell me I pray ; For dearly I loves sweet Misa Bhte, And for her pines away. Pow. She'll never marry you, I trow. Bagg. She will not marry you — O no ! Pow. And why not me? » Bagg. She'd Powder be. . Pow. Well, there is Powder-Bhie, you know. THE APOLLO. i99 Spoken. Bagy. Yes, but you marrying of Ler would not make Powder Blue, it would make Blue Powder ; for Miss Blue would take your name, you know, and that would — Paw, Make me sing, Fal de ral, &c. Bacfg. Oh, oh, oh, &c. Bagg. Oh, were Miss Blue her hand to give To me 1 swear — Pow. Hist I have a care ; Were you as man and wife to live, 'Twould make a Blue Bagg, I declare. Bagg. And that is better far by half Than to w«d with such a calf As Mr. Powder. Pow. I shall grow louder. Bagg, Ha ! ha ! ha ! ha ! excuse my laugh. Spoken. Bagg. Now, wouldn't it sound much better to say Miss Blue became Mrs. Bagg, than Miss Blue be- came Mrs. Powder; the wits and critics would then say that the parson was like a washerwoman — he'd tied a knot and made a Blue Bagg ; you son of a gun, wouldn't it go off with a better report ? Pow. No, I'll be shot if it would. Bagg. Well, I don't wish to rifle your feelings, Mr. Poivder, but I know it would. Bagg. Fal de ral, &cc. Pow. Oh, oh, oh, &c. Blue. As sore as I am standing here. If Bhte'W not marry, I'll not dally, But will shoot myself, I do declare, And blow me to Old Harry. 300 THE APOLLO. I'll for IVliss Blue my brains hloiv ont. Bagcf. You have got none to hlow, 1 doubt, Or you'd not talk so. Pow. Oh, man of woe. Bayg. Why, what a whining foolish lout. SpoTcen. Pow. Foolish ! Bagg. Yes, to be whining for Miss Blue, till you're white in the face — you don't even redden at her name. Pow. Why should I blush for ber? Bagg. You ought to blush for yoursf^lf. Pow. Ah ! I'm a miserable dog. Bagg. It is your in-cwr-ing, Pow. You're a whelp. Bagg. Mongrel. Pow. Puppy. Bagg. To speak ^/o-j-raatically, it is all spleen. Pow. C^r^egorically, it is not. Fal de ral, &c. Bagg. Oh, oh, oh, &c. Potv. Sir, your jeers I will not bear. For her I'll fight— ^(^(jg- A fool outright; Fight for one who perhaps don't care For me — Pow. Not thee, but me — ^agg. You wight. Here, take the hand of rival Bagg, Of Blue's affections neither brag, Bat first we'll see If't^s you or me She loves, before we'll fighting fag. Spohen. Bagg. Come, cheer up, and never let ber give yoa the blttes; consider, were you married there might THE APOLLO. 301 be certain little Powders — that would give you the blues, with a vengeance ; — O, Powder — Blue. Paw. O, Blue — Bagg. Bagg. Come, let's shake hands and though at pre- sent rivals — let us sing Both. Fal de ral, &c. FOR THEE I LEFT THE TENTED PLAIN. Sung by Mr. Wood, at Covent Garden. For thee I left the tented plain, The pennon, steed, and lance ; And flutter'd 'mid the courtly train, And mingled in the dance. The vest of mail and helm of steel I chang'd for silken suit; And the war-cry for the melody Of thy sweet voice and lute. WITH HIS HAT DRAWN O'ER HIS BROW. An Original Parody, by W. H. Payne. Air — With a helmet on his brow. With his hat drawn o'er his brow, • And a pint pot by his side. Blind drunk as Davey's sow. Young Paddy Flinn we spied; No police-man he fear'd. Or wife's loud piercing cry. But, tipsy in he lear'd To a public-house hard by. Bawling, landlord, heavy wet, A pot or two I'll try ; I've loved it ever yet. And will drink it till I die. 13. DD S(i'2 THE APOLLO. As clear as double X Your heavy wet must be, Or Paddy Flinn you'll Tex, And he'll surely bother thee : No dirt in the pot must dwell. Nor stinted measure show, Or, faith ! the truth to tell. No broivns you'll get you know. " Bawling, landlord, &c." HAUL AWAY! YEO HO, BOYS! (T. DibJin.) British sailors have a knack. Haul away ! Yeo ho, boys ! Of pulling down a Frenchman's jack, 'Gainst any odds you know, boys : Come three to one, right sure am I, If we can't beat 'em, still we'll try. To make Old England's colours fly. Haul away ! Yeo ho, boys ! British sailors, when at sea, Haul away ! Yeo ho, boys ! Pipe all hands with merry glee. While up aloft they go, boys : And when with pretty girls on shore. Their cash is gone, and not before, They wisely go to sea for more. Haul away I Yeo ho, boys ! British sailors love their king, Haul away ! Yeo ho, boys ! And round the bowl they love to sing. And drink his health you know, boys. Then while his standard owns a rag. The world combined shall never brag. They made us strike the British flag. Haul away ! Yeo ho, boys ! THE APOLLO. 303 THE IDIOT BOY. An Ortgi7ial Recitation, written by //, P. Who's is the grave with the osiers entwining. Where clustering flowers in beauty arise. Where the hallow'd cross bright in the moonbeam is shining. And seems to reflect the blest smile of the skies. There lie the white bones of poor Gertrude, once dear. Her virtues in memory are dwelt on with joy ; Her spirit is fled to yon happier spheres. And she dwells with the blest, and her Tdiot Boy. How oft would she spin while the gold fly he'd chase. And mark his wild eye as with passion it shone ; Then weep as she kissed his pale beauteous face. For though reason had fled, still the boy was her own. And oft when tear had bedimm'd her wild eye, He wept, for he thought there's no tear drop for joy,- And he paid back her tears, return'd sigh for sigh. As he lean'd on her bosom, the Idiot Boy. When she press'd her rude pillow, the pillow of death. And thought when the veil of the grave was unfurl'd. How sad was her soul for the form she gave birth. When he'd linger alone in the gloom of the world. She held up her arm, it was fleshless and bare,— And that moment she felt a soft transient joy ; For heaven had chased from her soul her despair. And she died as she gazed on her Idiot Boy. " Ah ! wake, dearest mother, Im hungry and cold, Cried the youth, as in glancing her fix'd features o'er. Ah ! why don't you wake in ray arras' tender fold. For you never have slept such a long tim« before. D D 2 304 THE APOLLO. 1 love ouly you and I feel such delight When, although weeping, you call me your joy: — From the boys of the village I oft urge my flight. For they tell me with jeers I'm an Idiot Boy. "She's cold, very cold, and her breast heaves no more. She's just like my bird when it hung it's soft head. When it hopp'd not, nor chirp'd not, nor sang as before, And they told me the poor little robin was dead." At that instant conviction flash'd over his brain, He knew she was dead, and that dead was each joy ; The heart burst its bounds, and broke life's feeble chain, And he died on his mother — the Idiot Boy. HAD I A HEART. An Original Sovg, written by Mr, Jackson. Tune— Gramachree. Had I a heart to give away. And that from sorrow free ; Despite of all my friends could say, I'd give it unto thee. But, oh ! my heart is not ray own, It wears another's chain, And thus it is that thou hast known To love, and love in vain. Another maid, perchance less fair. Perchance less kind than thou ; With eye less bright, less lovely hair. Has long received m}- vow. And her I love, and e'er must love, My will's no longer free ; To her I cannot faithless, prove. Nor can be true to thee. THE APOLLO. 305 SINCE I'VE BEEN IN THE ARMY. (Beuler.) Tune— Who'll be king but Charlie ? I'ai Paddy Whack, of Ballyback, Not long ago turn'd soldier ; In grand attack, in storm or sack. None will than I be bolder. With spirits gay, 1 inarch away, I please each fair beholder ; And now they sing, " he's quite the thing, Och ! what a jovial soldier !" In Londonderry or London merry, Och ! faith ! ye girls, 1 charm ye ; And there ye come, at beat of drum. To see me in the army. Rub a dub dub, and pilli li loo, Whack ! fal de lal la, and trilli li loo. I laugh and sing God bless the King, Since I've been in the army. The lots of girls my train infurls. Would form a pleasant party ; There's Kitty Lynch, a tidy wench. And Suke and Peg Mc. Carthy ; Miss Jndy Baggs, and Sally Maggs, And Martha Scraggs, all storm me ; And Molly Magee is after me, Since I've been in the army. The Sallies and Pollies, the Kitties and Dollies, In numbers would alarm ye ; E'en Mrs. White, who's lost her sight. Admires me in the army. Rub a dub dub. Sec. The roaring boys, who made a noise. And thwack'd me like the devil, Are now become before me, damb. Or else are very civil. dd3 366 THE APOLLO. There's Murphy Roake, who often broke My head, now daresn't dare me, But bows and quakes, and off he sneaks, Since I've been in the army. And if one neglect to pay me respect, Och ! another tips the blarney. With " wisht ! my friend, and don't offend A gentleman of the army. Rub a dub dub, &c. My arms are bright, my heart is light, Good-Lumour seems to warm me; I've now become with ev'ry chum A favorite in the array. If I go on as I've begun. My comrades all inform me, They soon shall see that I will be A general in the army. Delightful notion, to get promotion. Then, ladies, how I'll charm ye; For't's my belief, Commander in Chief I shall be in the army. Rab a dub dub, and pilli li loo, Whack ! faf de ral la, and trilli li loo, I laugh and sing God bless the King, My country and the army. A SCOTCH PARODY MEDLEY. (J. W. Smith.) Air — Comin' thro' the rye. 1 KNOW a girl that's got a body very much awry. And this girl's little crooked body does not please mine eye : Ev'ry lassie has her faults — but yet T know not why — The girl I love must pretty be, and her body not awry. The girl so fair, whose nut-brown hair and eyes I love so well, I ken ber namC; f ken her hame, but neither will I tell THE APOLLO. 307 Air^A famous mia nras Robin HuoJ> For a fatuous soug sana^ Willie Wood, And bis sweetheart call'd him darling joy. Till she found one who sang as good — When she blighted the hopes of the faithful boy. Now Willie Wood he roams alone By the bleak sea-beach when the big waves roar ; His lass and his senses for a^e have gone — Poor Willie's harp is heard no more. A famous song, &:c. Air— Soon the sun T?iII gang to rest. Soon I'll put the child to bed. And we'll gang out together. With this new bonnet on my head, IVIy last new yeil and feather. Tak' a dram before you go, Your eyes will sparkle brighter ; Smoke another pipe or so, 'Twill make your heart the lighter. Soon I'll put, &c. ^ir— Hurrah for the bonnets of blue. Then, hurrah for woman's bright eyes ! Hurrah for woman's bright eyes ; By day and by night they are the delight Of the stoic, the foolish, the wise. They're a treasure when man's in distress, They capture the weak and the wise ; — No blessing can equal in this world or next The beams of a woman's bright eyes. Then, hurrah, &c. Air— A Highland lad. A soldier brave my love was born, He roams where'er his fancy wills. His breath is as pure as May's sweet morn, — May heav'n protect him from foes and ills ! 308 THE APOLLO. For, oh, he's my own brave soldier lad. My handsome bonnie soldier lad ! There's not a lass but her heart it would glad To boast such a bonnie Scotch soldier lad! /lir— Draw the sword. Scotland. I wield the sword for Scotland, Scotland, Scotland, The land of the warrior, the birth-place of the fair ; From foreign foes to guard thee, guard thee, guard thee, Thy rights and thy freedom shall be the soldier's care. Then sigh no more, dearest, dearest, dearest, Though cruel fate shall part us — you never may be mine ; Still my prayers are for thee, for thee, for thee — In battle should I fall, love — my life was wholly thine ! Air — Roy's W ife. Tom's wife was fund of dancing, Tom's wife was fond of dancing. But wot ye how she swindled Tom ; — Upon my word I'm not romancing. She Tow'd, she swore, one Monday morn. She swore upon her soul and body — Sober she'd keep— but when he'd gone She got blind drunk with whisky toddy. Tom's wife, &c. THE WOMEN, GOD BLESS 'EM. J7i Original Song, by TV. Meek. '.v4ir— The King, God blesi him ! Oh ! give, give to me a goblet of wine. And fiU'd to the brim it must be ; I would 'twere the nectar of godheads divine, And I'd quatf it, dear woman, to thee ! THE APOLLO. 309 The source vf our life, our bliss Lere below. Thy merits, ah ! who can express 'em? Like the dew-drops of heaven beningly they flow, — Then we'll driuk to their healths, Ood bless 'em ! God bless em, &c. Then tell me who can, when in sorrow's dread hour When our souls are oppress'd sore with grief. How woman's soft sighs a balm round us pour. And give the afflicted relief. Oh, yes I there are charms in dear woman's form We feel, but no words can express 'em ; They're the source of our joys, as the sun is of morn, Then we'll drink to their healths, God bless 'em ! God bless 'em, &c. THE iMARCH OF INTELLECT IN THE BUTCHERING LINE. (r. Hudson.) Sung by Mr. Sloman, at the Coburg Theatre. Tune — The Irish Washerwoman. I KEEP a snug shop, which had once a good stock in. But the life l lead now is indeed very shocking ; I contrive to get money by industry's plan, My family spend it as fast as they can. My spouse who once work'd hard as any wife going, By this "March of Intellect's" so gently growing; She dresses herself and her daughters up fine, Although I am but in the butchering line. Spokex.] She takes in all the penny publications, though she can't read without spelling the hard words — makes poetry, though she can't write ; and as for blank verse, makes nothing of it — she has made her- self a hoi bum out of a old day book, and my eldest daughter writes down all the irood things they can 310 THE APOLLO. scrape together — if she goes into the shop to serve a quarter of a pound of suet, or a pennyworth of lights, she puts on a pair of white kid gloves, with the fingers cut off — and its all through the March of intellect. She dresses herself and her daughters up fine. Although I am but in the butchering line. I get back from market each morning at seven. But wifey ne'er rises till after eleven : She don't condescend to take breakfast with me. For chocolate's much more genteeler than tea. She quarrels with what she calls my vulgar manner. She's just ordered home a bran new grand pye-anner ; Of course we must have music master so fine, Although I am but in the butchering line. Spoken,] We've got two daughters and one son. — Gt'orgiaua Matilda learns the pye-anner and singing, 'cause she's got a woice ; and there she is, strum strumming and sol fa-ing from morning till night, enough to drive all the customers out of the shop — Isabella Caroline, she learns French and parly vous like a good un, only we don't understand her. The music master has hard cash for his notes ; but the French teacher having got on the books, " For sundry joints of mutton and beef," we takes it out in lessons — the girls are all the mother's delight — while the poor little boy, Augustus Henry William, runs about in ragged breeches; and his mother don't like him at all, because he never wipes his nose — and its all through the March of fntellect. The mother and daughters together combine. And cock up their noses at the butcheriug line. In vain 'bout extravagant whims do I rate her, 'Tis useless, for if I go to the theatre ; In dress circle boxes her feathers^she nods, While I /las six pen'worth along with the gods. THE APOLLO. 311 Though my daughters are young, they tiave each got a lover. They wear long frill'd trowsers, their ancles to cover ; Their mother's determined to make them both shine, Although I am but in the butchering line. Spoken.] She seolds me for drinking porter, 'cause it's so vulgar ; drinks Cape Madeira at eighteen- pence a bottle — she puts all the washing out, 'cause the steam's unv/holesonie — all her gowns are made like froks, and all the girl's frocks like gowns — milliner's bills come in by the dozen — she has a new front from the barber's every month, 'cause the fashion changes so — and she wants me to order a pair of false whiskers for Sundays — and 'cause I wont, she never gives me a civil word — ^and what d'ye think? though we have been married eighteen years, she says it's very vulgar to sleep together — and so we have separate beds — and its all through the March of Intellect. These genteel ideas may be very fine, But she'll soon make an end of the butchering line. THE TEAR. (T. Moore.) On beds of snow the moora-beam slept. And chilly was the midnight gloom. When by the damp grave Ellen wept — Sweet maid, it was her Liudor's tomb. A warm tear gush'd, the wintry air Congeal'd it as it flowed away ; All night it lay a dew-drop there. At morn it glitter'd in the ray. 312 THE APOLLO. An angel, wandering from her sphere, Who saw this bright and frozen gem, To dew-eyed Pity brought the tear. And hung it on her diadem. FRYING-PAN ANA. An Original Parody, written by A. J. W. Martin, Tune — Poor Mary Ann. Oh, bid adieu ! to eggs and bacon, Poor frying-pan ! Pancakes from thee I oft have taken. Poor frying-pan ! But now, alas ! thy day is gone by, Cutlets, sausages, liver, and pigs-fry. Smoking from thee, shall glad my sad eye. Poor frying-pan ! When new thou shining and so bright was, Poor frying-pan ! The tire set at defiance quite was. Poor frying-pan ! But now age has thee overtaken, Farewell, liver! and farewell, bacon! The shine out of thee quite is taken. Poor frying-pan ! For now a hole is in thy bottom, Poor frying-pan ! Caused by the nasty cooks, od rot 'em. Poor frying-pan ! For they left thee in damps to rust, - For thy hole-iness may they be curst. But end my tale of woe £ must. Alas ! frying-pan ! «^«vr«yr THE APOLLO. 313 ' Now the fire being warm, anil their spirits so cool, Tbey both fell asleep very quick.''' SEWING UP OF TfMOTHY STITCH'EM. At a village in Kent, as I have heard tell, Lived a tailor, call'd Timothy Stitch'em, Who could sigh and could groan, aye, and preach very well, So the neighbours all feared he'd bewitch 'em ; He would oftentimes tell them a comical tale About religion and cabbaging so neatly, When collected together, their minds to regale. He'd measure out a subject completely. Spoken. J Now, my friends, I shall cut out my sub- ject by a well-shaped pattern, which, no doubt, will ^t you all as close as ivax — there are many of you whose understandings are become threadbare, and, if you are not turned {rom that coat of wickedness. Old Nic'K will cahharje you, to a dead certainty ; but 1 hope no one present will be such a cjoose as to get 14. E E Mi THE APOLLO, within the length of his sleeve-board, if you do, you will make a devil of a job of it, he will rub dotvn your seams and work-up your button-holes, so that you will all be ready to Sigh away, die away, Moan away, groan away.. What comforts must certainly reach 'em ; Such sighs and such cries. How they turn'd up their eyes At the sight of little Timothy Stitcb'em. Now Stitcb'em oft visited a farmer bard by. Who heeded but little his advice. But the wife on this doctrine would always rely, And believed he could mend her in a trice ; So Timothy, finding the farmer was deaf To all he might preach, sing, or pray. He would take care to visit his dear loving wife, And console her when he was away. Spoken.] Yes, Timothy always avoided the pre- sence of Farmer Fusty, in order to comfort the wife with his devout doctrine, and also to comfort himself with some good cordials which she could procure; and, one evening, when the farmer was gone to mar- ket, they not expecting him back very soon, took the opportunity of regaling themselves with cups of comfort, prayers, and what else I can't say, but this love-feast had such an effect on their spirits that they began to Sigh away, die away. Moan away, groan away. What comforts must certainly reach 'em ; Such sighs and such cries. You'd have turn'd up your eyes Had you seen little Timothy Stitcb'em. Now the fire being warm, and their spirits so cool. They both fell asleep very quick. THE APOLLO. 315 When some knowing wag took a peep through the key-hole. An opening for mischief to seek ; Then, hearing them snore, he stole a black cat. Then soon mounted to the chimney-top, To her tail tied straw, with an old dirty hat. And bundled her down neck and crop. Spoken J Yes, pussy descended the chimney rery quick, with her straw packed up behind her, as if she was set out on a long journey, but, unfortunately, her burden caught fire, so running to the pious couple for protection, set their garments on fire, so there was a pretty blaze altogether, and their fright caused them to Sigh away, die away, Moan away, groan away. What confusion must certainly reach 'em. Such sighs and such cries. You'd have turn'd up your eyes, Had you seen little Timothy Stitch'em. This woman, through fear, call'd for help so loud That the neighbours were struck with amaze. Who assembled so fast that a wonderful crowd Came to see Mr. Stitch'em in a blaze : Now the farmer arrived in the midst of the clatter, And with wonder he began to stare, Soon the neighbours did explain the truth of this matter. When he raved like a man in despair. Spoken.] Well, this is a pretty rig ! bat, however, I'll soon cool their courage and heat at the same time, by tying them together with a cart-rope, and sending them to hunt water-rats at the bottom ol lli«" horse-pond : I think it is proper they should have a E E '2 316 THE APOLLO. soaker after their scorcher, so I'll let them stick fast in the mud till they begin to Sigh away, die away, Moan away, groan away. What confusion must certainly reacli 'em, Such sighs and such cries. How they turn'd up their eyes, 'Twas the sewing up of Timothy Stitch'em. THIS BLOOMING ROSE. An Original Mong,wfitten and sung by Mr. Paul. This blooming rose at early dawn, Expanding to the view, 1 pluck'd the flower though sharp its thorn, Because it look'd like you. Bat gazing on thy beauteous face. Its likeness fades to view. Nor on the rose thy blush I trace. Its charms must yield to you. OLD FATHER THAMES AND THE TUNNEL. (T. Hudson.) Tunc— Mr. Simpkin. Old Father Thames, in spirits sad and very woeful way. Started down from Richmond town to London t'other day ; He'd heard the people talking loud, which strongly rais'd his wonder, About new bridges over him, and a wond'rous tunnel under. THE APOLLO. 3I7 In mumps and dumps he slowly glided through each well known heud, And found as he proceeded, his condition did not mend ; He every turn collected yet a still more dirty face. And on his banks impossible to find a decent place. At Chelsea he was nearly poison'd by gas-works and lead. And found the little fishes all — dabs, eels and flounders dead ; He said the Chelsea Water-works 'twas nipp'd them in the bud. And henceforth those said Water-works should be call'd works of mud. Then through the dirty coal barges he mentally did curse. The nearer got to London — oh, he found it got the worse ; Vauxhall-bridge and Waterloo — he said were getting old, And neither one nor t'other of them e'er could turn to gold. He ran against new London bridge, and all its piles and works. He had a fall most shocking, and through it went by jerks ; He reel'd and got quite eddy — and like a drunken elf. He got a long way down before he could come to himself. He then of his sweet even temper, banish'd every gleam. At ev'ry turn he ruffled was, and buffetted by steam ; The boats came up from Margate quick, and cutting through his breast, Vex'd him sorely, for he could not get a bit of rest. £ £ 3 318 THE APOLLO. He weut on till off Redriff, and tben had cause for dread. He felt the Tunnel people busy undermine his bed ; Tired with curiosity, and sly as any cat. He forced a hole and peep'd through just to see what they were at. The workmen frighten'd, ran away as soon as he did enter. He found two arches stout and strong, and brick'd up to the centre ; He lik'd the place amazingly — it seem'd a quiet road. So arch — resolv'd beneath the arch to take up his abode. The architect, the engineer, and workmen made a rout. And used endeavours fair and foul, in vain to get him out; He says — in their ejectment though there may not be a flaw. Every body knows possession's nine points of the law. OH YES, AND OH NO. An Original Comic Sorig, by T. Prest. Tune— The Great Bashaw. Tabitha Snooks was a damsel young, And beautiful and witty; Was thought the greatest fair among The fairest in the city. But in life there is something to distress. The belle as well as beau ; And Tahitha instead of answering "yes !" Though she meant it, would always say " no !" Fol de rol, &;Co THE APOLLO. 319^ When askd out to dine, wlik!i was olten indeed, For her company ail seeru d blest in ; She still maintain'd her foolish creed, A creed she thought she seem'd best in: Let the dinner be ever so good, oh la ! Good breeding she thought for to shew ; And so when ask'd " would she have any more?" She always replied, " oh, no !" Fol de rol, &c. When eighteen years old she was handsome still. And each beau tried to gain her favor ; But vain did they seek for to conquer her will. Each ene vainly hoped he should have her : W^hen they ask'd her with them to assemblies or plays, Politely, if she would go. She blush'd to the eyes, and although she meant "yes !" She always replied, " oh no !" Fol de rol, &c. W^hen twenty-two, a buxom young earl. With pleasure would her have united; But when be implored, the stiil stupid girl Turn'd from him indeed quite affrighted : With his carriage, and many a thousand a year. He cut a most spleu«Jid show ; But still when he ask'd her, although she meant "yes!" She eoyly sigh'd forth, " oh no !" Fol de rol, Sec. When thirty- two she was not quite so coy. And began to think some might delight her; But now she was too old for a boy, And the men seem'd much to slight her. Thus time elapsed, nought could her bless. Her face Jjad a wrinkle or so ; 320 THE APOLLO. And Tabitha wonld glitdly then have said " yes !" But the men ev'ry one cried " no !" Fol de rol, &c. Now, prudes, I'd have ye be warn'd by my song, And in youth don't scorn your fortune ; Or like Tabitha you'll find you're wrong, And neglect will be your portion : When a youth with some cash your life would hless^ To have him don't be slow ; When the question is popp'd, mind answer " yes !" But never repeat " oh no I" Fol de rol, &c. THE FEMALE VOLUNTEER. (C. Dibdin.) Tune— Tbe W Lite Cockade. In danger's hour, when our haughty foes Our British standard dare oppose. When our gallant lads are obliged to roam, Why should women idly stay at home? I'm volunteer turn'd, and, indeed, what's more, A smart drill'd serjeant of the corps ; And whenever our Old England's claims require. Can soon " 7««Z:e ready, present, and^re/" I'm a merry little wag in a scarlet frock, And my heart's as stout as my musket-stock. The rat-tat-too I love to hear, Like a merry little British volunteer. With Britain's foes what can't we do? When, sirs, you must own we can conquer you. See us marshall'd out, and the fight begun. The words — " charcje bayonet /" away they run. While we pink the cowards as they fly. Till loudly all for quarter cry ; And as mercy's the pride of the British throne, The word's—" fjround arms /" and the day's our own. I'm a merry, &c. THE APOLLO. 321 Their arms all grounded to our view, To " take tip arms''' is, of course our due ; And La\iDg boldly gaiu'd the day, 'Tis •' shoulder arms .'" and we marcb away. Then, soldier-like, each jovial soul Crowds gaily round the flowing howl. And toasts, with voice and heart, with three, Britannia! George! and Liberty ! I'm a merry, &.c. THE BftOWN CUCKOO. An Original Song, written by W, C. Esq. A Yt)L'NG knight once a sporting went, The deer was fair he had in view ; With a damsel gay his hours he spent. And brought home nought but a brown cuckoo. Oh ! thou merry bird, cuckoo, .Sing thy bonny song, cuckoo : Of all the birds that ever flew, There's none can match the brown cuckoo. This gallant knight had a fair young wife, In vain to her did lovers sue : She prized his honour as bis life. Till he brought home the brown cuckoo. Oh I my merry, &c. With the morning sun he left his gate. And to his lass again he flew ; The lady mourned her hapless fate^ The bird at length whooped out "cuckoo." Oh ! my merry, &c. The tears fell from her eye of blue, " Alas ! sweet bird, my lord's untrue, If thou wert me, what would'st thou do?" The bird, you may guess, replied, -'cuckoo." Oh ! my merry, &c. 322 THE APOLLO, Slie took tie hint, and oped the door VVheu a suitor next his bugle blew , She once was chaste, she's so no raore. Thanks to the berry brown cuckoo Oh! my merry, &c. Then, gentles, to your wives be true. And they will live alone for you ; But if you abroad will bill and coo. The bird at home will sing " cuckoo." Oh ! thou merry bird, cuckoo. Sing thy bonny song, cuckoo, That young knight's heart did sorely rue. The day he caught the brown cuckoo. PADDY O'GAFFNEY'S WAKE; OR, DEAD ALIVE. i4tr— Brulgruddery's Epilogue-Song. T'other night, faith, 1 went to the wake of a friend. What went dead just before he would come to the end Of his life, what was over some time, as they said, When to make him die asey they put him in bed. Spoken.] " Och ! my darling creature!" says Mis- tress O'Gaffney, " and is it yourself too what is come to help to wake ray dear man now? sure he'll be mighty plased of it for the respect of the thing, poor dear dead crature !" says she, putting out the whiskey to me. " Take a drop of it yourself, Mr. M'Hoghlin, without mixing it at all; it's the way my Pat, what's dead there, was liked it, wasn't it, Pat, my darling ?" " Sure we'll try him tiff now," says 1 ; " it will be making him comfortable getting it down you see." "Och, bad luck! be asey now!" scramed out Mis- tress O'Gaffney, as myself uncovered the face of him ; " would you he disturbing the dead creature ?" says she, " besides you'll be making him take cold strip- THE APOLLO. 323 ping liiin ! Ocli, Pat! och, my jewel, spake to me now ! Oh ! O ! Oh ! ! (rjiving the howl) Oh ! O !" Myself and all joined chorns. Och, and sure 'twas all over delightful ! and then we tucked him up warm and comfortable, while we sung Hurroo whack Blilloo, Smic smaghlaloo ! Mister Murphey Marooney, 'twas chanced by mistuke^ Pat his foot in the place near the heel of the wake, "Och," says 1, " sir, you're out;" "no," says he " sir, I'm in !" " Then," says I, "you're the signal a row to begin," Spoken.] " You dirty spalpeen," says f, " what's brought you here before you was sent to be axed?" " Bad luck," says he, "and wasn't I sent myself to be axed, what's all the same now," "Och! don't be coming here, you old ragman, with your blarney about sending yourself what's not wanted at all," says I ; " so you're out, I'm telling you!" "Och! by the powers of all that's plasing," says he, " and wasn't I come to comfort the widow now ?" " Divil fly away wid you then," says I, " for haven't I every thing at all to comfort a widow myself, you see? Bad lack to the comfort she'll get from any one else; will you. Mistress OGaffney ?" says I, " Divil a bit of it!" says she. " Och, my darling crature," says I, "then that's what's enough for me to go to work upon." So to work T went at once, putting Mister Marooney's daylights in the dark, before he saw himself quite blind of all his eyes, "There, you dirty tief I" says I, " that's teaching you what's teaching you what's paceable while you're kicking up a row, yon see," That was all the nate thing, 'cause I wouldn't be disturbing poor Pat what's dead at the time, with a Hurroo whack Blilloo, Sniic smaghlaloo ! 324 THE APOLLO. With swate Mistress O'Gaffney then cock of the walk, I put out my best leg- first to win the first chalk Of the game, what's called love, — when I tickled her chin, " It's mj heart," says she, " Dennis, you're meaning to win ?" Spoken.] " Och ! faith ray tender jewel !" says T, " sure 1 wouldn't be maning any thing else, my lamb- kin, and every thing what's belonging to it now." " Och ! yon divil, whisper," says she, " sure we must be dacent, until we'll be got Pat under the turf a:nd all about him you see." " Och, musha gra a gram- a-chree ! my double-fat darling," says I, "sure an' 1 wo'n't be making you as happy as a fly in a pot of treacle, my honey-bird ! Sure I'm the swate boy for comforting the ladies, Mistress O'Gaffney, you'll see," says I. By my soul, myself was getting all over alive about her, when her brother. Mister Teddy Phagan, was come up to be axing me if I took his sister for a dish of butter-milk? "Och, be asey," says I, " sure wo'n't T intend to take her for biitter and all, by-and-by you'll see." And then I told him. says I, "Only wait till awhile ago, and we two brothers will be first-cousins-in-law you see out of it !" Faith, he was quite plase9l wid the notion of it ;^the whiskey was going about bravely, till we was all blind happy, and just got into the middle of a swate howl, (gives the hoivl.J when och ! bad luck ! you wouldn't think what was happened. Bother- ation ! such a Hurroo whack fililloo, Smic smaghlaloo. Pat went dead as it happened for plasing his wife. But for plasing himself, he again came to life; For while waking his body, so swate was our howl, By the powers, that our music at last waked his soul ! THE APOLT.O. 325 Spoken] All the botheration of bad lock to it ! We was all got quite comfortable, myself and Mrs. O'GafFuey as swate together as two nuts ju.st cracked ; Teddy Pha2:an and Katty Culloch, Mister O'Brien, Mister O'.MuUins, Mistress Donnehongh, Shelah M'Nally, Mister O'Looseskiu, and Miss Fiannas;'an with her beautiful mother, you see. and all the rest of us was just in the marrow of the thinfi^ all 'ogether, with our pipes nately tuned in a* charming Oh! O ! Oh ! O ! Oh ! O ! when who the divil s?i')nld pop up straight upon his rump but dead Pat O'CJad'ney all alive at the moment ! " Och, and where am I ?" says he, staring with all his eyes and ears into the bargain. " Arrah be asey, Pat!" says I, "you're safe enough now, you're dead these twelve hours ; so don't be troubling yourself at all about it !" But by Saint Patrick he wouldn't be believed a word of it, and out of bed he jumped, while Mistress O'Gaft'ney was fainted in my arms, and myself tumbled back- wards out of the room down the ladder all together, one top of t'other, running away with the divil at onr heels ! So that's what was finished Pat's wake nately, with a Hurroo whack fililloo, Smic smaghlaluo. THE SMILE AND SIGH. Suiig by Miss Paton. There is a smile I dearly prize, Tho' many a frown is near me ; There is a light in beaming eyes. That 'mid life's gloom can cheer me: For though a cold world still should scorn, And friends forsake me ever, 1 feel I ne'er can be torlorn, Till love shall from me sever. I feel I ne'er, &c. No. 14. FF 326 THE APOLLO, Tbere is a sigh that says, " I'm thine," A sigh that speaks sincerely, Warm from a heart that's only mine, A heart 1 love most dearly ; And till our meeting bosoms cease Their ausw'ring throb for ever, 1 feel that ours are joy and peace. Nor love shall from us sever. I feel I ne'er, &c. MOLLY. A Bombastic Recitation, deliver''d by the late Mr. J, Jones, Spoken. A GODDESS liv'd among the gods — oh no. She wasa't above our company below ; No groves nor grottos were her blest retreat. No baa-lambs baad, and lick'd her hands and feet: She loved the fagots of the grove to burn. The lambs when slaughter'd, on the spit to turn ; In short, she was a cook, and in a kitchen dwelt. Five letters formed her name, and Molly spelt; So in the kitchen, which was below, The footman and the butler loved her, — so She loved them both, and to secure one man. She call'd them to her, and this song began. Sinf/s. Tune— When I was an infant. When I've seen fortune-tellers they'd say. You two fellows would be jealous. Sighing and groaning all night and day. That 1 lov'd one more than the other, Sure the gipsy told me true. Jealous rirals I'd find you; Doubting, fearing. Scoffing, jeering, Daily making halloo-baloo. THE APOLLO. 3-^7 I'll have a beau as brisk as an eel ; Butler trip so. Footman skip so, Bobby can caper, autl Johnny can reel, Then hey for a footmau or butler. Now on your merits in judgment I'll sit, Fortune hovers o'er you lovers; Warble your wishes in verse, if you've wit. And the best songster I'll marry. Strike up, simple rivals, do Catch me, now I'm in the cue. For your mettle Now shall settle, Who's I am to be of the' two. F'll have a beau, &c. Spoken. Molly's kind words made her listening lovers proud. Both smiled and thank'd her, then each scraped and bow'd ; Then John the footman fell upon his knees, And said " I'll siug first, Molly, if you please." He gaind consent, and to entrap the prize. Sang this song with sobs and melting sighs. Sinffs. Air — Pray Gnody. Look, Molly, at the kitchen fire, and listen to my song. You are as bright as that, and I'm as hot ; You stir it with the poker, which makes it burn so strong, And just such love for you ray bosom's got; View me, How gloomy, And be a poker to me ; And stir my fire For life's entire, Or I shall go to pot. p F 2 328 THE APOLLO. O Molly, .loTely Molly, pray dou't let me sigh in vain, Say as bow that yoa will be mine for life ; The kitchen stuff for pin money you always shall retain, If you will but consent to be my wife. Spoken. Then Bob the bntler undertook the job, Banter'd by Jolinny, with " go along Bob ;'* Bob gave a grin, and nodded with his nob, Saying, "listen, and Bob will bear a bob." Sings. Air — Quite politely. Molly, if you'd have a man. For a husband, for a husband. List to me and toss the can, And kick out melancholy. I'll never make long sighs and moans, Nor mock maids on my marrow-bones, But be true to my Molly ; Oh, Molly ! matchless Molly ! Lovely, matchless Molly. Molly, now, what do you say. To a butler, to a butler ? Will you have me, lovely, aye ? Have me, and have a fuddle; And we'll have nice children soon, Aye and we'll have a son ere the honey-moon. And in matrimony night and noon. We'll cuddle, kiss, and fuddle. Oh, Molly ! pretty Molly ! Lovely, matchless Moll}'. Spoken. When Bob the butler had done this melodious bout, She sung this song, but first she gave a shout. THE APOLLO. 329 Si».ys. Johnny you have lost ine, Bobby you have won; Bobby's tunny sonj^ is best, And I am toocl of fun. So take my hand and rae, — Thus tunny songs, you see. Will always get a man a wife. As sure as sure can be. Spoken. Then Bob the butler took the maiden's hand. Which sight poor .John could not withstand; So with the sight he fell upon tlie floor, And sang this song, but never sung one more. Sinfjs. Oh, dear ! and oh, dear ! Poll's decision makes me cry; Although you see I pipe my eye, Don"t you think it's all my eye ; For it's here, and it's here, 1 will lay me down and die. Spol-en. But he didn't die dead. No, no, he thought it best to make believe instead; So up he jump'd, and said, " Die, die, what, me die ! no, no, damme ; Johnny's not such a Sammy." Then Bob the butler to the maiden clung, And this song of triumph sung : — Sings. ^tr— Darby Kelly. Huzza! huzza! the maid fve won. And thank you my true Molly, O ! John tried in rain Your love to gain ; K F 3 330 THE APOLLO. By sighs and sobs so common, O ; Bat now he knows, That ab's aud oh's, Will never win a woman. O ; So now, you know. To church we'll go, And after that — Fal lal, lal, oh ! NEW VERSION OF ADAM AND EVE. (Mackey.) I've come once more, yes, that's the move meant. Now to sing of each improvement ; Changes daily over London^ Some are done, and some are undone. Houses now are changing places. One I'll mention that the case Is — The Post-office has chang'd its stand, sirs. To grander loot in St. ]Martin's-/fe-f/r«Hc/, sirs. Cry, oh dear, oh ! we take our leave Of the prime old days of Adam and Eve. . Now Billy Shakspeare's gone to rest, sirs. Once he reckon'd was the best, sirs; Its uj:) with him in this here town, sirs. And Black-eyed Susan's all in the Downs, sirs. I went one evening in a hurry, To see it acted at the Surrey ; It set my tears, oh dear, afloat, sirs. They fili'd my hat and soak'd my coat, sirs. Cry, oh dear, &c. 1 wanted to ride to the Diorammer, I tells you true, 'tis not a crammer. They puH'd me in a thing like a hearse, sirs, And that they call'd a oh m-j knee burst, sirs ; THE APOLLO. :S3l I ax'd for a stage ; they laugh'cl at niP so, "Stages," they cry'd "no more you'll see — no. We swell our numbers without presutoption. As they're in the last stage of consumptiuji.'''' Cry, oh dear, Kc. Now, if one house sets up a play, sirs. Another takes the piece away, sirs: The first, to stop them in their function, Goes and takes out an injunction. And it is true, without romancery, Claps it into the Court of Chancery ; While the second one, to spoil their mission, Directly sets up hopper sit ion. Cry, oh dear, &c. Once on a time old Nick, so tliey sa^s, Gloried only in going to blazes : But now there's a chap sets bakers quaking, Goes in the oven to save his baling; And when he finds it fit to eat, sirs, He coolly walks out with his meat, sirs; And having manag'd well, may boast, sirs. What few men can, he rules the roaat, sirs. Cry, oh dear, &:c. One night to see the Coburg willing, 1 gave my order, paid my shilling: Aye, by the bye, if you require. Orders they give by the ream or quire : In the boxes what a treat, sirs. For my shilling I'd a seat, sirs ; In the dress circle, oh, how plummy. Between a dust/nan and a chu?nmt/. Cry, oh dear. &c. Now of a night in streets don't parley, Not that you need to fear old Charley ; He's gone our morals to increase, man. By way of cloaks, they've g^^'t polict-mcn ; 33'i THE APOLLO. VV^tli liv'ry, how, like swells, tbey strut on. While boys all cry out, '■^mutton, mutton!^ No longer the bucks can westward parley, So they over the water goes to Charley. Cry, oh dear, &c. The changes now take place quite free, sirs, Yet in the Strand no 'Qhancje you'll see, sirs j For Cross has shares at Charing Cross, sirs, And oil the heastes there mnsi pause, sirs. I'm sure I can't tell what their views is. Unless they think the spot anmses — Don't think I've too satiric grew, sirs, On them — no, they've a satyr too, sirs* Cry, oh dear, &c. Now having view'd throughout the City, Enough to make this little ditty, I hope you will excuse the same, sirs, I tried to improve, and there's the blame, sirs ; Yet I must tret still, when I leave, sirs. For them 'ere days of Adam and Eve, sirs ; Unless one old law keep its station Unchang'd — that's your kind approbation. Oh, grant me that, I needn't grieve For the good old days of Adam and Eve. THE WIFE. As a sailor's all one as a piece of a ship. So my wife ivS a piece of myself; We eat the same biscuit, partake the same flip. And wer't worlds, she would keep all my pelf. And her wishes are mine, we have only one heart, One maxim, one pleasure, one. fancy. Not oceans our love for a moment can part, For I always am present with Nancy. THE APOLLO. 333 When leagues far and wide, for my comfort and use, If I want to examine my chest. What delight to my heart does the rummage produce When I'm rock'd in my hammock to rest. The cordials and comlorts so tidily placed, Haul her taught to my heart and my fancy, And[the needles and huswife her fingers have graced. Quell my soul till I've nothing but Nancy. Then in case that in battle I wounded should be, Here a rag, there a bandage appears. All niark'd with her hair, and 'tis easy to see. That she wash'd them, poor soul, with her tears, And should I get wounded in fight, maim'd, or blind, What a dainty delight to my fancy. The misfortune would make me, sweet love, she's so kind More dear to the heart of my Nancy. All true honest tars have their duty at heart. Their country and king they defend ; They spare foes, they love honour, and never depatt From their post, as a Briton and friend ; But how, were their courage so kept up by love. They'd indulge in the generous fancy; They'd fight like the lion, forgive like the dove, If, like me, they'd a wife such as Nancy. FIRE! FIRE! FIRE! (Beuler.) Tune — Bow, wow, wow. Now fire, fire's all in vogue, and every one's enconiluin Is "the man who lives in fire'' and " view oi Pandf- monium ;" That now the Fire King reigns on earth, I think there's little doubt, sirs, And all the rain we've lately had has been to put him out, sirs. Fire ! fire I fire ! fal, lal, de riddi, iddi, fire \ fire ! fire ' 334 THE APOLLO. The flaming plays we nightly see are 'nougb to torrify us ! "Wood-demons," "Juans," " Frankensteins," and " Vampires" bonify us ! " Faustus," " Freiscbutz," " Bottle Imps," blazing from tbe German stores, now, Ha\e made us a\\ Jire-ivors/iippers and demon ama- teurs, now. Fire ! fire ! &c. Tbe demons of Der Friescbutz quite out-Juan famed Don Juan, And put the town in sucb a blaze as soon will be our ruin ; No office will insure us soon, for now tbey can't get water Eoougb to put out all tbe fires wbicb happen ev'ry quarter. Fire I fire ! Sec. Tbe mania's spread both high and low, for ev'ry one's inquiring " When will be tbe next review to hear tbe cannons Jirin^ .?" And now tbe whole inquiry made, when servant maids one hires. Is not about good wages, but it's " if we heep good fires:' Fire! fire I &c. To cure this spreading fire disease, a learned doctor hath, sirs. Recommended frequent use of i^o^ and sulphur baths, sirs ; And when the horrors or blue devils any body has now, Ths same physician recommends a dose of laughing gas, now. Fire ! fire ! &c. Rail-way and Mining Companies, which started up In legions, Are gone to dig and make rail-roads, down in tbe lower regions ; THE APOLLO. 335 Steam coaches shortly are to start, by gas-light bravely shone up, To carry people doivn the road — that's if ihey tlont get blown up. Fire ! fire I Klc. Tinder now is out of date — a man no longer knocks his Knuckles with the flint and steel, but buys some phosphorus boxes ; There's portable oil ^as to burn and bear about like tapers — No wonder, as there's so much f/as, the English have the vapours. Fire ! fire ! &c. Satanic Schools in vogue are, where young devils meet with pimps, sirs. And learn to speak dead languages, and drink like Bottle Imps, sirs ; King Satan, too, to draw 'em in, his means is never slacking, For he nightly writes upon c/ewc^-walls " Try the Matchless Blac-king." Fire I fire ! &c. Young ladies dress in flaming silks, to try to catch the sparks, now. Old dames are getting fond of satin — excusing my remarks, now ; f hope you'll think some^re has been in what I've just indicted. And with good spirits you'll go home all lively and delighted. Crying fire ! fire ! kc CUPID FISHING. Music ptib\i&heil by VV. Georget corner of St' Bride'* Avenue, Fleet St. CuiHD sut on a ruck one day, tils tack;e near him lying. When Fortune, passing by that way. Heard the Uiung urchin crying; 336 THE APOLLO. " Oh, potent Love, I should like," said she, " If I am free to ask it, Just to be given a little peep Into thy fishing-basket." " Alas !" cried Love, " I've not yet found A presentable dish ; But here are sprats, a flounder see, And several Jiai fish. My luck of late has been so bad. That 1, who caught so many, Now think myself supremely blest. That 1 have netted any." " 'Tis even so," replied the nymph. Look at thy broken tackle ! No fish but sprats and flounders, boy. Will find th7/ net a shackle Thy arm has lost its wonted strength. Nor needest thou be told. Thy net is much too slight for use. Unless its links were gold!" The god look'd grave — " corae now," cried she, " I'll weave thy net afresh. And see if any living thing Resists my gulden mesh ! Depend apon it, fish will bite. In spite of wind and weather. If thou wilt only throw in nets Which I have wove together." And so it proved — Love fish'd away. At ebb and flow of tide. And ever drew a plenteous store. When Fortune's nets were plied. But if by chance, through vanity. He chose his own light rod. The fish would nibble, break away. And disappoint the god. THE APOhLO. 3:^7 ' So slap neiit the Boor in 'imm? ladiee deplorin^t Ami gentlemen roariug— Lord, how they did swear THE CLERKENWELL BALL. ^ir— Songs of Shepherds. Silence, ye waltzers and dancers pragmatical. Twisting and twirling your trotters in air. Fig for yctur antics and tricks operatical. Who can your dancing with ours compare ? Spite of your vapours and puffs in tiie papers, Now come, and cut capers with us if you dare; But first hear the story of us in our glory, At our ball so famous last Bartlemy-fair. Spite of your vapours. &c. Cock up your ears, then, and mind that ye hearken wel Seldom such stories as this you shall hear: 'Twas at a turning that goes into Clerkenwell, Sign of the house was the Bull-dog and Rear. Price was a shilling, which all who were willing, Dropt Brandynose's till in matters to square. 15. G G 338 THE APOLLO. Then as each g(>es in, wlmt rapture his toe's iu. To hear the folks rosin up two pair of stair. ' Spite of your vapours, &c. Blear-eyed Barney 'gan to flourish his fiddlestick. But darkness for dancing- not being thought fit; Four short sixes did up in the middle stick, Thus was our ball-room most handsomely lit ; Brisk went the fiddle, while brisk down the middle, As sharp as a needle, each light-footed pair. To Voulez-vous danzer and Harlequin's fancy. Did caper and prance with agility rare. Spite of your vapours, &c. Four quart-pots were inside of the fender set. Two half-gallons kept open the door : Pipes and hachey were placed in the window-seat, Gin-and-water was running galore ; To open the ballet, a little French valet Led clumpy-toed Sally to dance de la Cour, But chancing to stumble on poor Sally's bumble, Alas I both did tumble bang down on the floor. Spite of your vapours, &c. Next came tripping on light toe fantastical. Bouncing Bet, from the Saracen's Head, Hand in hand with big Bob, the gymnastical. Six feet high, with her feathers so red ; Then a bandy-legged dyer, with gawky Maria, And squinting Sophia, joined hands in a reel, With Dumpy, the baker — the fat undertaker. And slammaky Kate, with a hole in her heel. Spite of your vapours, &c. But oh ! the catastrophe, dire and disastrous. Muses with horror and sorrow declare, Bull-dog and Bear was an old lath and plaster-house- Ceilings and roofings much out of repair ; THE APOLLO. V,]'.) So alap went the Uoor in 'uiorijj ladies deplnrin;^. And gentlemen roaring — Lord, how lh(;v did swear ; I'm grieved to relate it, and sorry to state it, But thus terminated our ball at the lair. Spite of your vapours, Kc. RETURN, O MY LOVE. Return, O my love, and we'll never, never part, While the moon her soft light shall shed; I'll hold thee fast to my virgin heart, And my bosom shall pillow thy head. The breathe of the woodbine is on my lip, Impearl'd in the dews of May ; And none but thou of its sweetness shall sip. Or steal its honey away. No, no, never no. Shall steal its honey away. Return, O my love, &c. Yes, yes, my bosom shall pillow thy head. THE LEVEE. Alt Original Comic •S'o/iff, hi/ L. Fenivn. Tune — Ciironation. A SHORT time since, by way of spree. Although the day look'd heavy, I took my hat and went to see Folks going to the levee. And as along the streets 1 jiass'd They all seem'd in a bustle, So in the crowd I gut at last .Among the rest to jostle. And every carriage that I saw I tried to get a peep in. Had it not been against the law I think 1 should have leapd in ; G G "2 340 THE APOLLO. For ihere 1 saw such charms display'd, Indeed 1 felt quite eager To sit beside each pretty maid, And ride to levee with her. There was Countess A, with Duchess B, And many <>ther ladies. All riding- to His Majesty, To shew their pretty laces; They look'd so very line and nice. Fine silks and leathers drest in. Just like the birds cii Paradise, Gay, young, and interesting. Their feathers were of such a size, To hang down on their shoulders. Which served for to create surprize In the astonished beholders. A gazer on remark'd to me. Says he, "do you not think, sir. That theui there ladies vot ve see Makes werry pretty pinks, sir. " Their empty heads so gay are drest. Their feathers they so tosses, They looks to me at werry best Like funeral coach horses. And ev'ry feather on each head Is white, upnn ray word, sir; Each plume I'm sure would stuff a bed,- Fine feathers make fine birds, sir." He for luy answer diJ not wait. But lett mv to surmise it. That to his .skill Td proved a bait, At which I was surprised. My watch and pur.se had flown away. It made the sight come heavy, VVhilst looking at the ladies gay, A gmng to the levee. THE APOLLO. 34I THi-: SEVEN AOES. Sung by Mr. \V. Paul. Our immortal poet's page says that all the world's a stage, And that men, v/ith all their airs, are nothing more than players; Each using skill and art, in his turn to play his part, All to fill up the farcical scene, O ! Enter here, exit there, stand in view, mind your cue. Hey down, ho down, derry derry down. All to fill up the farcical scene, O ! First, the infant on the lap, mewling, pewling for its paP' Like the rabbit, which we truss, is swaddled by its nurse. Who to please the puppet tries, as he giggles and he cries, All to fill up the farcical scene, O ! (The singer here itnitates the cryiny of a child.) Hush-a by, wipe an eye, kiss a pretty, suck a titty. Spoken.J Ha, ha ! it was its none mamma's pretty, pretty ; and, if he is a good boysey poisey, he shall go a ridey, pidey, in a coachey, poachey — Va ! ya I Hey down, ho down, &c. Then the pretty babe of grace, with his shining morn- ing face. And his satchel on his back, to school, alas ! must pack. While, like a snail he creeps, and for black Monday weeps, All to fill up the farcical scene, O ! Book mislaid, truant play'd, rod in pickle, bum to tickle. Spoken.] (Imitates schoohuastrr and buy.) I'onie up, sirrah, and say your lesson. What letter is ihat .' c c 3 342 THE APOLLO. A. Well, sir, what is the next? That, sir. It is not that, sir — it is this, sir. Now, spell B-i-r-m-i-n-g- h-a-m. Well, sir, what does that spell ? Birming- ham. Put out your hand, sir — there (slapping th^ boy's hand) It is Bruramagum. 8ing hey down, ho down, &;c. Then the lover next appears, soused over head and ears. Like a lobster in the fire, sighing ready to expire, With a deep hole in his heart, you might through it drive a cart. All to fill up the farcical scene, O ! Beauty spurns him, passion burns him, like a wizard, eats his gizzard. Spoken.] Oh, my most adorable Amelia, had T words suflSciently strong to express my admiration of your beauty, you would at once believe me your devoted lover, and complete my bliss by flying to hi.s arms who must for ever pine for the possession of that angelic form. Hey down, ho down, &.c. Then the soldier,ripe for plunder,breathing slaughter, biood, and thunder. Like a cat among the mice, kicks a dust up In a trice ; Talks of nought but streaming veins, shatter'd limbs and scattered brains. All to fill up the farcical scene, O ! Fight or fly, run or die, pop or pelter, belter skelter Spoken.] Aye, \ shall never forget the last battle I was in, such marching and countermarching, — up the hill and down the hill, — right and left, flank and rear. Bless your heart, I have fought up to my knees in blood ; and, at the very last battle T fought in, I had six horses shot under me — saw my comrades mown down like hay; and, just as a twenty-four- THE APOLLO. 343 pounder was comins towards me, I drew my hroad- sword — cut it right in two — one half went up in the air, and the other halt" went — Hey down, ho down, &c. Then, the justice, in his chair, with his broad and vacant stare, His wig of formal cut, and belly like a butt, Well lined with turtle hash, calUpee, and callipash, All to fill up this I'arcical scene, O ! Bawd and trull, pimp and cull, at his nod go to quod. Spokex.] Now, sirrah, what's your name ? John. John what ? No, sir, not John What — John Thomas, Well, John Thomas, what right had you to take liber- ties with that girl ? 1 didn't take liberties with her ; but 1 think she takes a great liberty with me, when she swears a child to me. You must father it, sirrah. f wo'n't, let her father it herself. What do you mean, sirrah, if you are saucy here you must go — Hey down, ho down, &c. Then the slippered pantaloon, in life's dull afternoon, With spectacles on nose, shrunk shank in youthful hose. His voice, once big and round, now whistles in the sound. All to fill up this farcical scene, O ! Vigour spent, body bent, shaking noddle, widdle waddle. j Spoken.J Aye, times are altered now ; old folks are laughed at, and boys alone are respected. Oh. dear me, how my cough annoys me. Hoi ho ! ho ! ah ! Hey down, ho down, &c. Then, to finish up the play, second childhood leads the way. And, like sheep that's got the rot, all our sensis go to pot. 344 THE APOLLO. When death amongst us pops, and down the cartain drops. All to fill up the farcical scene, O ! Then the coflSn we move off in, while the bell tolls the knell. Spoken.J Aye, thus the scene finishes : then, while we are here, why shouldn't we enjoy Hie? And how can we do better than assemble, as we have done — enjoy a good song, and endeavour to make each other happy, by singing — Hey down, ho down, &c. THE HEART OF A FRIEND. An (n-iginal Song, written bij Jesse Hainmond. Air — The dog is his master's protector and friend. How barren and bleak would this desert be found. If the roses of love did not blossom around ! And how dreary the mazes we're destin'd to thread. Did friendship not brighten the path that we tread ! But beauty and virtue can sorrow controul. And the heart of a friend is a home for the soul. Though the journey of life may be checquer'd with care, Yet love-beaming eyes can banish despair; Though the blast of misfortune the bosom may chill. The sweet smile of friendship can comfort it still ; For beauty and virtue can sorrow controul. And the heart of a friend is a home for the soul. Though the bright flame of love may decline at the last. Yet a purer shall rise on the rays of the past , Though the beams that have cheer'd us may wane by the way, Yet friendship shall last until life's latest day; For beauty may wither, as seasons may roll, But the heart of a friend is a home for the soul. 1HE APOLLO. ^45 FOLK FRET HIGH. Tune — Love-sick Looby. What a misery it is to be just four iVet liigh, I'm sure ynu ali feel for my case ; For wheu but au infant, the gossips would crv. My growing they never could trace. To see me so little, 'tis truth that's poz. Gave father and mother much pain ; But in short, why short I ail my life was. And in short, why short I remain. Oh dear ! oh dear ! Oh, hapless misfortune — T feel It — that I, Should never grow taller than four leet high. My school I went through, and some years pass d away, And although i look'd but a boy ; With other lads taller I scorn'd to play, For 1 thought iiiyseif hobbe-de-hoy. Fate cut my prospects., and sternly decreed — Stinted my growth so that I Did reach four and twenty years old, and indeed. Before 1 was four feet high. Oh dear ! oh dear ! Oh hapless misfortune — I sob ar,d I sigh, To think I'm not more than four feet high. I then fell in love and a courting I went — A beautiful damsel so fair; W ho was just six feet tall, but she would not consent, And ail my hope turn'd lo despair. To gaze on her charms put me all in a slir. I felt my poor heart was not Iree : Imploring her pity I look'd up to her, With scorn she lookd down upon me. Oh dear ! oh dear ! Too short to be married — I sob and I sigh. Because I am not more than four leet high. 346 THE APOLLO. The refusal from her fiU'd Bay heart full of woe. Oh, love gave my valour a twist; I made up my mind for a soldier to go, And boldly I went to enlist. But corporal, Serjeant, and all — nine or ten — At mj resolution did laugh, And told me they only took good siz'd men. And I was too little by half. Oh dear I oh dear ! Too short to be shot at, i sob and T sigh, My greatest misfortune is — four feet high. As I walk through the streets, I feel some alarm To see every tall person come ; Whose looks plainly say, " Come under my arm. You wee little hop o' my thumb." And each gawkey boy, my walk who comes near. Seems but to act by one plan ; For all of them cry, " companions, look here. Look at the queer little man." Oh dear ! oh dear! iScofF'd by youug urchins, who, jeering go by. Because 1 am not more than four feet high. Day after day. I ray shortness deplore. With grief my poor heart is quite full ; I cant reach a kuocker, to knock at a door. Nor one single bell can 1 pull ; Yet from this I get consolation a bit, And sentiments speak of all small men ; I know very well we only are fit To be waited upon by the tall men ; Oh dear 1 oh dear ! Hapless misfortune I feel it, that I i^hould never be taller than four feet high. There's one very pleasing reflection to me, (To own it I cannot refuse); THE APOLLO. :]47 With my sliort person contented Id be. If the ladies I can but amuse; And sliould any fair one, T vow on my life, Take pity on me and my son^, rll purchase the licence — make her my wife, And marry, though short, before long. Oh dear ! oh dear I To make her quite happy I'm sure I would try. Although I'm not taller than four feet high. ADVENTURES OF BENJAMIN BOWBELL. A Laughable Scene from the popular Farce of " The Illustrious Stranger." Characters. — Benjamin Bowbell and Gimbo. Boiohell, Here's a pretty kettle of fish ! What's to become of me ! — I'm totally diddled and undone. W^here am 1 ! Cast away like an oyster.shell — no doubt on some savage island, with no more hope than a soused mackarel. This comes of travelling to foreign parts ! — shipwrecked, battered and tattered — bumpt and thumpt — with a broken head, and all the bark oft" my shins — and all my live stock dead. Even my poor ducks couldn't weather the storm. — Poor Benjamin Bowbell ! why did you venture be- yond a Margate steamer and the Isle of Thanet, where you were the pet of the women and the envy of the men ? Oh ! my poor father, when I left you, I was as spruce a young sailor as Billy Taylor — and look at me now ! all slab and sloppy, like a spunge in a gutter, and expecting to be squeezed every mi- nute by the Hottentots or Anthropofigasses. Ob! that I now heard my namesake, Bowbell, ringing a bob-major. •" SONG. i^ir-Evelyus Bower. Oh, I weep for the hour. When 1 started from the Tower, With all my friends a-grieving for my folly, O ! 348 THE APOLLO. And left luy bread and butler, Snug in father's craukycutter. For to sail with Captain Swipes aboard the Polly, O^ How the stormy winds did blow ! Things a rolling to and fro ; No mortal man did ever such a clatter see, O ! Once more in Cripplegate, If again I navigate, (t shall be upon the quiet sea of Battersea, O ! Then you who wish to roam, Take advice and stay at home, Or you'll get into a hobble most confounded, O ! Not a dry stitch on my back, All my cargo's gone to rack, And my little pigs and poultry is all drownded, O ! Enter (jIxMBO. ■ Boiv. (falling on his knees) Oh ! mercy, mercy most glorious Anthropophagus, don't eat me : I'm as unwholesome as a cockle on a copper bank. Gim. As I live, an Englishman. Rise, my good fellow. Boiv. Don't roast me alive, though I'm ready for the spit — for I'm dripping from head to foot. Gm. That voice ! as sure as I live, 'tis Benjamin Bowbell. Boiv. The ivery man. He's a magician. Gim. My dear fellow, don't you know me? Boiu. How should I, most noble ? never was in these parts before. Gim. Don't you recollect Tom Treacle, the grocer's boy? Don't you remember the days of bliss when you and I used to dry sloe leaves, and make green tea for old Kit Carraway ? Bow. Tom Treacle ! you don't say so? Let me look at yon ! his wery mug ! Oh, Tom Treacle ! what a sweet meeting ! my darling boy ! you have been nicely preserved; but see what a pickle I'm in. THE APOLLO. 1^49 Clm. And what br(iu<;lit you here? Proreed. Boiv. VVjiy, the Polly from London — Captain Swipes, you know. Gim. \vd how canje she to be lost ' Proceed. Bow. Why, Captain Swipes got swipy, and Polly C(tuldn't find her way — run ri^ht wrong upon a rock — and there she slicks, poor dear, with her copper bottom uppermost. Look at her — with all my kit on board. Oh. Tom, Tom ! I han't a dry stitch in the world, but what's sticking to my back. Gun. Hard upon you, indeed I and so yoa have taken to the sea? Bow. I beg your pardon ; I can't say I have taken to it at all. Gim. T judge from your dress. Bote. May be so. I bought it at the slop shop — and now it may go back to the slop shop. Gini. But how came you to leave England? Proceed. Bow. Why, I was supercargo, you know — that is, I've been rolling over tiipe and butter barrels ever since I left the Tower-stairs. Gim. And where were you going to? Proceed. Bote, Proceed! what, on a hen-coop? Why, I was bound for China to take tea. But I say, Tom, what are y(tu a'ter ? Is there a fair in these parts? what's that fine dress about? you han't set up for a puppet-show, have you? Gim. A puppet-show I my dear fellow, my fortunes made by the king of this island, the great Aboulifar. Bow. A bully what! Gim, Aboulitar. This is the richest itdnnd in India; lovely women — good cheer and jollification from morning till night. Botv. You don't say so? then I light upon my legs again. Gim. You do: think yourself happy that yi>u have lighted on this hospitable strand. ^ 15. HH 350 THE AfOLLO. Bow. Ah, Tom— but think of our Strand — think of the New Church, and Somerset House, and Exeter 'Change ! Bless 'em all ! Pd rather roll in the gutter there, than ride in a palanquin with the Great Mogul. Gam. But the beautiful women — Bow. Aye — but Sukey Skybiue, Tom, the milk- maid, she's my written promise. Oh, how she cried when I veni avaij. She hadn't ve.pt so much, she said, since the day the cruel company clapt a pad- lock on her pail, and cut off her perquisites. Gim. Vile taste — Ah! you know not the foituue that is in store for you. Bow. Can I get at a dry jacket? Gim. Silks, velvets, brocades. Without knowing it, you have made a short cut to rank and affluence. Bow. r^ow do you mean? Gim. Listen, fn the first place, every stranger wrecked on this shore is promoted to the highest dignities. Bow. You don't say so ! Gim. And you, my dear Bowbell, are come in the very nick of time I — for, in the next place, by royal proclamation, and a decree of the oracle, the beau- tiful Princess [rza is to be married to the first hand- some stranger who may be wrecked on the island. Boio. Impossible! Why you don't mean that — Gim. That you are the man. Bow. You're going it ! What ! a princess ! Gim. The King's daughter. Botv, A real, royal, right arnest princess ! Gi7ii. The most lovely woman you ever beheld. ' Bow. Then the old fortune-teller was right, and tbis here voyage will make a man of me at last. Upon your word and honour'? Gim. Upon my word and honour. Bow. Well, arter all, one never knows when one is well ott. A f»riucess ! It's all fate — it was to be THE APOLLO. 351 so. How tilings turn out! tlint this here violent storm should set me up in sunshine for lite ! Givi. Ah, to save short-si;2;htrd mortals. Bote. We are indeed ; a decree of the oracle ! Poor Sukey ! But, bless her, her shoulders are broad enough to bear it; and to make her amendti, she shall be first lady in waiting. ALL THE WORLD ARE PUFFING. (W. H. Freeman.) Tune — The First of September. Why, what a wond'rous age is this. We've drollery enough in it; No wonder that our airs increase. When all the world ?irt piijfing it. If at these puffs I give a blow. And treat such follies smartly ; I hope iu\ puffs by you, my friends. Will not be taken tarlhj. Puff, puff, puff. All the world are puffing it. So puff, puff, puff. The puffs that barbers once did use. Were mostly kept to powder us; But now they shave a different way. This age so much the prouder is. They deal in oils and essences. Improvements sure will ne'er cease; The only puff they think of now, Is puffing Russian bear's gre:ise. Puff, puff, &c. You'll find that puffing's patronized By all our young nobility ; For as they walk along the street With feminine frajiility ; 35"2 THE APOLLO. They careless puff a mild cigar. Attended by tbeir lacquey ; And as the master puffs, of course. The servant puffs his backey. Puff, puff, &c. The ladies, pretty little souls. The fashions, too, must follow : At puffing, you must all allow, They beat the gents quite hollow. Their little hearts are puff'd with pride. When for a beau they nail one ; They wear SHch monstrous sleeves beside Puff'd out with cane or whalebone. Puff, puff; &c. We companies of late have had. Who puff'd off new inventions ; And undertook all things to do, You could conceive or mention. But we have by the sequel seen. At puffing they were worsted ; For they went on at such a rate. They puff'd till they have bursted. Puff, puff; &c. Charles Wright is puffing his champagne Lest he were custom lacking ; There's Warren, Hunt, and Martin, too All pulling liquid blacking. The doctor puffs his patient np With hope of speedy mending; But Death arrives, and with a puff, He very quickly ends him. Puff", puff', &c. END OF VOL. I. Arliss, I'liutcr, Adtll« S.rgei, \\,tud istreei, Cheapside, fr'- I /V^ This booK is DUE on the las1 date stamped belo-w >ii,-2:31 ^ '^-m '"»m^^