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 Some things in view may turn a prize,

til it fill my love-ſick arms.

No curſed gold, no beauty bright,

ſhall ever gain him from me,

But like the turtle I ſhall remain,

'till he returns unto me.

No coſtly robes, no beds of down,

ſhall make me to ſurrender;

Although we part he has my heart

on board the Cambridge Tender.



OME all ye Lads and Laſſes,

together let us go,

Into ſome pleaſant corn-field,

our courage for to ſhow.

With the edge of our ickles,

ſo brave we clear the land?

Work on my boys the Farmer cries,

here's liquor at command.

With a good old leathern bottle,

and beer that is to brown,

We ſtrip and reap together,

while bright Phœbus does go down:

So early in the morning,

the birds begin to ſing,

Such echoes of ſweet harmony,

make all the groves to ring.

And in comes pretty Nancy,

her colour for to raiſe,