WILLIAM TAYLOR.

Five and twenty brisk young seamen

All attired in rich array,

Willie was going to be married,

When he was pressed and sent to sea.

Next year on board the ship she entered;
She went by the name of Willie Carr;
Her pretty little fingers, neat and slender,
Were all bedaubed with pitch and tar.

Then the captain he did ask her,

"What misfortune brought you here?" "Oh! I'm in search of my true lover, Whom you pressed on board last year."

"If you're in search of your true lover,
Tell me truly, what's his name?".
"William Taylor's my true lover,
Whom you pressed in the Isle of Main."

"If you would see your William Taylor,
You must rise by the break of day;
There you'll see your William Taylor,
Walking with his lady gay."

Then she rose, and she rose early,
She rose up by the break of day;
There she saw her William Taylor,
Sporting with his lady gay.

25

26

CIGARS AND COGNAC.

Then she called for a brace of pistols
They being always at her command;
And she shot her William Taylor,
Walking at his bride's right hand.

When the captain came for to know it,

He much applauded what she'd done ;
And he made her first lieutenant

Of the glorious "Thunderbomb."

CIGARS AND COGNAC.

A FRAGMENT.

H

E who wears the regimental suit
Is oft as poor as any raw recruit ;

But what o' that?

Girls will follow where they hear the drum,
To view the tassel and the waving plume

That decks his hat.

Chorus. — Off, off we go, and tell them we're on duty; Smoke our cigars, and flirt with some gay

beauty;

Oh, vive l'amour cigars and cognac !

Hurrah, hurrah, hurrah! with them we'll bi

vouac.

POLLY PERKINS.

When we march through country towns,

Maids will laugh at us, and prudes will frown;
But that's absurd.

When we march, we leave behind

Girls who have been true and kind;
Oh, take my word.

27

POLLY PERKINS.

'M a broken-hearted milkman, in grief I'm

arrayed,

Through keeping of the company of a young
servant-maid

Who lived on board wages, the house to keep clean,
In a gentleman's family, near Abingdon Green.

Chorus. - Oh! she was as beautiful as a butterfly and as proud as a queen,

Was pretty little Polly Perkins, of Abingdon
Green.

Her eyes were as black as the pips of a pear;
No rose in the garden with her cheeks could compare ;
Her hair hung in ringerlets so beautiful and long,
I thought that she loved me, but found I was wrong.

When I'd rattle in the morning, and cry "Milk" below, At the sound of my milk-cans her face she would show,

28

POLLY PERKINS.

With a smile upon her countenance and a laugh in her

eye;

If I'd thought that she'd love me, I'd have lain down to

die.

When I asked her to marry me, she said, “Oh, what stuff!"

And told me to drop it, for she'd heard quite enough
Of my nonsense; at the same time, I'd been very kind,
But to marry a milkman she didn't feel inclined.

"Oh! the man that has me, must have silver and gold, Must have a chariot to ride in, must be handsome and

bold;

His hair must be curly as any watch-spring,

And his whiskers as big as a brush for clothing."

Oh! the words that she uttered went straight through my

heart;

I sighed, I sobbed, and straight did depart,

With a tear upon my eyelid as big as a bean,
Bidding good by to Polly and Abingdon Green.

In six months she was married, this hard-hearted girl;
But it wasn't a viscount, and it wasn't an earl;
It wasn't a baronite: 'twas a shade or two wuss,
'Twas a bow-legged conductor of a two-penny 'bus.

29

SHAWMUT AVENUE.

SHAWMUT AVENUE.

WAS promenading out, one lovely morn,
In the middle of July,
Admiring all the pretty dears

As they went passing by,

When I saw, oh, such a dear little duck!
A thrill my frame went through,

As she swept the pave with a muslin dress,

On Shawmut Avenue.

Chorus. - On Shawmut Avenue, on Shawmut Avenue, As she swept the pave in a lovely dress,

On Shawmut Avenue.

As I passed by, she looked so shy,

Says I, "Miss, is your name's Jones?"

Says she, like a saint, "Well, no, it aint!"

In no such lovely tones.

Says she, with a wink, “It's no such think;
My name I'll tell you true;

It's Maria Stout, and I live out

On Shawmut Avenue.

As on we walked, we sighed, and talked
About love and things divine;

My heart with passion swelled right up;
I asked her to be mine.