5
But since I've earned many a crown,
By the shop here in sweet Common garden.
Sing, fal de ral, &c.
Now the end of my song's drawing near,
I'll tell ye, but that's nothing new;
Now all my ambition's to try,
And do what I can to draw you;
In which, if I do but succeed,
And my efforts beguile you of pain;
I entreat you'll not wait to be asked,
To come often and see me again.
THE IRISH SMUGGLER.
From Brighton two Paddies walked under the cliff,
For pebbles and shells to explore,
When too a small barrel was dropt from a skiff,
Which floated at length to the shore;
Says Dermont to Pat, we the owner will bilk,
To-night we'll be merry and frisky,
I know it as well as my own mother's milk,
Dear joy, 'tis a barrel of whisky.
Says Pat, I'll soon broach it, a fortunate lot,
Now Pat, you must know was no joker;
I'll go to Tom Murphy, who lives in the cot,
And borrow his kitchen hot poker.
Twas said and 'twas done, the barrel was bor'd,
No bachanals evor felt prouder,
