Page:A Selection of Original Songs, Scraps, Etc., by Ned Farmer (3rd ed.).djvu/33



The time draws near—another year
 * Shall see the work of centuries fall;

For 'tis decreed—sad news indeed,
 * To do away with Old Vauxhall!

There's scarce a heart that will not start,
 * No matter what its rank or station,

And heave a sigh when they destroy
 * This favourite place of recreation.

If we look back on Memory's track,
 * What joyous scenes we can recall,

Of happy hours in its gay bowers,
 * And friends we met in Old Vauxhall.

There, fine old trees, the passing breeze
 * Hath kiss'd for many a long, long year;

This season gone, are every one
 * Doomed to come down, and disappear!

Beneath their shade fond vows were made,
 * As e'er "Virginia" heard from "Paul,"

For Cupid held an annual court
 * For years and years in Old Vauxhall.

Enough, enough, 'tis maudlin stuff,
 * I think I hear my readers say,

Houses are better far than trees,
 * And Old Vauxhall has had its day,

The pride and pleasure of the town
 * It long hath been, it now must fall;

Improvement wills it, so prepare
 * To bid adieu to Old Vauxhall.