Page:Pocock's Everlasting Songster.djvu/156

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5 Tis long ago now fmce I left Tipperary How ftrange, growing older, our nature mould vary ! All fymptoms are gone of ancient quandary I cannot tell what I ail.

Dear, dear ! what can the matter be ? Och, blood an ouns ! what can the matter be ? Och, Gramachree ! what can the matter be ? I'm bother'd from head to the tail.

��A SAILING WE WILL GO.

OME, buftle, buttle, drink about,

And let us merry be, Our cann is full, we'll pump it out, And then all hands to fea.

And a failing we will go*

Fine Mifs at dancing fchool is taught

The minuet to tread, But we go better when weVe brought

The fore-tack to cat-head.

And a failing. &c.

The jockey 's call'd to horfe, to horfe,

And fwi-tly rides the race, But fyifter far we fhape our courfe

When we are giving chace.

4 And a failing, &c.

When horns and fliouts the forefts rend,

His pack the huntfman cheers ; As loud we, hollow, when we fend A broadfide to Monfieurs.

And a failing, &c.

The

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