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His morning mefs fcrfook the friendly bowl. And in fmall ftreams along the pavement ftole, He heav'd a figh which gave his heart relief, And then in ptiintive tone declar'd his grief.
Air,- -Foote's Minuet.
Ah L facre Dieu ! vat do I fee yonder,
Dat look look fo tempting red and white ? Begar it is de roaft beef from Londre ;
Oh ! grant me von lettle bite. But to my guts if you give no heeding,
And cruel fate dis boon denies; In kind compaffion unto my pleading,
Return and let me feaft my eyes.
RECITATIVE.
His fellow guard of right Hibernian clay, Whofe brazen front his country did betray, From Tyburn's fatal tree had hither fled, By honeft means to gain his daily bread, Soon as the well-known profpecl he defcry'd, In blubb'ring accents dolefully he cried :
Air, Ellen a Roon.
Sweet beef,* that now caufes my ftomach to rife, Sweet Beef, that now cauies my ftomach to rife,
So taking thy fight is,
My joy, that fo light is,
To view thee, by pailfuls runs out at my eyes. While here I remain, my life's not worth a farthing, While here I remain, my life's not worth a farthing,
Ah hard-hearted Loui !
Why did I come to you ?
The gallows, more kind, would huve fav'd me from frarving.
RECI-
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