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I were free at liberty,
and all things at my will,
Over the sea I soon would be,
for I vow I love him still
And Charlie, &c.
And now my song is ended,
of the young Chevalier,
How Charlie he came to this town,
and got a volunteer.
O Charlie he's my darling,
My darling, my darling,
O Charlie he's my darling,
The young Chevalier.
OSCAR'S GHOST.
Tune, Roslin Castle.
O! See that form that faintly gleams,
It's Oscar come to chear my dreams,
On wings of wind he flies away;
O! stay my lovely Oscar, stay,
Wake Ossian, last of Fingal's line;
And mix thy tears and sighs with mine:
Awake the harp to doleful lays,
And sooth my soul with Oscar's praise.
THE PITCHER.
It's not yet day, it' not yet day,
then why should we leave good liquor,
