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.