WAY to the field, fee the morning looks grey, And, fweetly bedappled forebodes a fine day: The hounds are all eager the fport to embrace, And carol aloud to be led to the chace.
CHORUS.
Then hark, in the morn, to the call of the horn, And join with the jovial crew,
While the feafon invites, with all its delights, The health giving chace to pursue.
How charming the fight, when Aurora first dawns, To fee the bright beagles spread over the lawns, To welcome the fun now returning from reft, Their mattins they chant as they merrily queft. Then hark, &c,
But oh! how each bofom with transport it fills, To ftart, juft as Phoebus peeps over the hills; While joyous, from valley to valley refounds The fhouts of the hunters, and cry of the hounds. Then hark, &c.
See how the brave hunters, with courage elate, Fly hedges or ditches, or top the barr'd gate : Borne by their bold courfers, no dangers they fear, And give to the winds all vexation and care. Then hark, &c.
Ye cits, for the chace quit the joys of the town, And fcorn the dull pleasure of fleeping on down, Uncertain your toil, or for honour or wealth; Ours ftill is repaid with contentment and health. Then hark, &c.
'HEN daifies py'd, and vi'lets blue, And Cuckoo-buds of yellow hue,
And lady-fmocks of filver white,
Do paint the meadows with delight;
CHORU
The cuckoo, then, on ev'ry tree, Mocks married men, for thus fings he, Cuckoo! cuckoo! O word of fear, Unpleafing to a married ear.
When fhepherds pipe on oaten ftraws merry larks are plowmen's clocks : When turtles tread, and rooks and daws, And maidens bleach their summer fmocks; The Cuckoo, &c. ..
CHARMING FELLOW.
LORD, What care I for man or dad!
Why let them roar and bellow,
For while I live, I'll love my lad,
He's such a charming fellow.
At laft fair-day upon the green, The lad he danc'd fo well O; So fpruce a fwain there was not seen, As my sweet charming fellow.
The fair was over, night was come, The lad was fomething mellow, My dear, fays he, I'll fee you home; I thank'd the charming fellow.
We trudg'd along, the moon fhone bright,
Says he, if you'll not tell O,
I'll kiss you now by this good light,
O! what a charming fellow !
You rogue fays I, you ftop my breath, Ye bells figh out my knell O; Again I'd die fo fweet a death, With fuch a charming fellow.
FLOWING BOW L.
WHEN once the gods, like us below,
To keep it up defign'd,
Their goblets with fresh nectar flow, Which made it more divine. Since drinking it refines the foul, Let's push about the flowing bowl.
The glittring ftar and ribbon blue, That deck the Courtier's breast, May hide a heart of blackest hue, Tho' by his King carefs'd. Let him in pride and fplendor roll, We're happier o'er a flowing bowl.
Let Mansfield Lord Chief Juftice be, And Cornwall Speaker fill, At home let Sandwich rule the fea, And Pitt the treasury fill. No place I want among the whole, But one that's near a flowing bowl.
Let Patriots for liberty rage,
And curfe the courtly crew, Because like them they want to have, The loaves and fishes too.
I care not who divides the coal,
So I can have a flowing bowl.
The Son wants fquare toes at old nick, And Mifs wants to be wed,
The Doctor wants us to be fick, The Undertaker dead.
All have their wants from pole to pole, And I want an ever flowing bowl.
ANCHO R, Y E O, Y E A.
DOWN top gallant fails, ftand by your lee braces,
For now we weather'd the
Would you, lads, fee the girls' pretty faces, Safe moor'd at an anchor, Yeo, Yea.
We fail'd in the good fhip the Kitty,
With a fresh blowing breeze and rough fea; There's your Nancy, whom they call fo pretty, Safe moor'd at an anchor, Yeo, Yea.
She utter'd foft words when fhe parted, I'd have you be conftant, faid fhe; Said I, my dear, don't be down-hearted, Then up went our anchor, Yeo, Yea.
From that time no worfe nor no better, For nothing was thought of but she; Could grog or gin make me forget her, She's my cable and anchor, Yeo, Yea.
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OVELY nymph, affuage my anguish; At your feet, a tender fwain
Prays you will not let him languish; One kind look would ease his pain. Did you know the lad that courts you, He not long need fue in vain ; Prince of fong, of dance, and sports, You fcarce will meet his like again.
OVELY Damon, when thou'rt near me, Straight my vital spirits fly;
Nothing but thy fmiles can chear me, Turn, O turn thy killing eye: Hide, O hide those blooming graces That thy lovely face adorn : Who could fhun thy fweet embraces When thou'rt blushing like the morn.
Lovely Damon, do not teaze me With a fight I cannot bear; Dearest Damon, if you'd ease me, Never on the plain appear: Defift, dear youth, nor ftrive to gain A heart, which is not mine to give; Ceafe, O cease to give fuch pain; Shun my fight, and let me live.
HE echoing horn calls the sportsman abroad, To horfe, my brave boys, and away; cry of the hounds
The morning is up, and the Upbraids our too tedious delay.
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