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A sixth I'll not scruple at giving,

I'll name it wbile 'tis in my head ; 'Tis, if you don't drink wbile you're living, You never will after you're dead.

So, faith, I'll awa' to the bridal, &c.


[Air—"The Low-back'd Car."] WAEN first I saw Miss Clara,

A West-end ball 'twas at,
A low-neck'd dress she wore, and near

The open door she sat;
But when that door was thriving oak,
Exposed to tempests keen

And biting air

So much, 'twas ne'er
As the blooming girl
As she sat in her low-neck'd dress,
Becoming, I must confess;

For of all the men round

Not one could be found
But look'd after the low-neck'd dress.


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The polka's tumult over,

The fundest of mammas
Her daughter calls, and hints at shawls ;

But scornful - Hums" and "Ha's"
From Clara (artful goddess !)
The kind proposal meet-

Quite faiut she feels-

She fairly ieelsShe never could bear the heat! So she sits in her low-neck'd dress; But the heat would have troubled her less,

For long weeks will lave rollid

Ere slie's rid of the cold That she caught from the luw-neck'd dress.

I'd rather see those shoulders

'Neath downy cloak of fur,
Or pilot.coat, and round that throat

A pleughman's comforter ;
For I'd know that tender bosom
Was safe from climate's ill,

And the heart so sweet

Would much longer beat
Tban I now leel sure it will
While she clings to her low-neck'd dress.
I've proposed, and she answered, “Yes ;

Next week it's to be,

But make sure I shall see
That it's not in a low-neck'd dress!

sea ;


[Music by Robert Coote. I HAVE been down to Brighton, and dipped in the I have dived at the waves, and have swam from the

shore ; And have laughed with delight that my limbs were so

free, The swell of the ocean to carry me o'er. But when I've returned to my bathing machine, And have dressed and emerged on the pebbly

strand, Oh! wbat a different "swell” have I seen ; What a different "swell” have I grasped by the

You may grasp by the hand, boys,

But keep your hearts free
From the swells" on the shore

By the side of the sea.

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There's a swell on the shore looking out for a bride, – For he knows, cunning doy, why the girıs are brought

down; And I'm sorry to say, when he tries the sea-side, The mammas are more verwant than they were in

He ogles an heiress ; ma sanctions the “match,"

And all in a season the mischief is done ;
But silly mamma finds, too late, that her " “ catch
Was a roué in town, and a prodiyal son.

Oh ! silly mammas,

Let your daughters go free
From the wily embrace

Of such swells of the sea.

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There's a swell on the shore who's been down for a

week, And he says for eleven weeks more he'll remain, --He has travelled to Brighton his pleasure to seek,

And he's not in hurry to leave it again. He's a swell who at home was a wine-merchant's

clerk, With a hundred a year, and spent five pounds a day; So he went to the Bankruptcy Court "for a lark”. His “protection's” postponed, and he's "out of the

And instead of a prison-yard,

Here he walks free,
'Mongst the swells on the shore

By the side of the sea.


There's a “swell,” very heavy, who smokes large

cigars, And lies on the Leach, where the German band

plays; There's a fair, lovely girl, and the best of manimas, Who reside at the Bedford, and that's where he



He's attentive at table, he sings, he croquets,

“What a beautiful pair you would make,” says


Alas! there's a wife who sells bonnets and stays,
And works very hard, to support his cigar.

She's a slave in her shop,

While at Brighton he's free,
And walks with the swells

On the shore by the sea.
With his wife, “for a change,” an attorney goes

down ; She walks on the Esplanade, he on the Pier ; They make friends, and ask them to call when in

town, But the friends, when they're clients, regret it, I

fear. Young men who borrow; the people who lend ;

Young ladies who must not in love bave their way; Folks who seek fortunes ; and others who spend ; All meet in the crowd on this wondrous highway.

But there are jolly people,

Unfettered and free,
'Mongst the swells on the shore

By the side of the sea.


“WHERE are you going, my pretty maid ?"
I'm going a milking, sir,” she said,
“Sir,” she said, “sir,” she said.

“Shall I go with you, my pretty maid ?”
“Oh, yes, if you please, kind sir,” she said.

“What is your father, my pretty maid ?"
“My father's a fai njer, sir,” she said.

“Shall I marry you, my pretty maid ?"
“Oh, yes, if you please, kind sir,” she said.

"And what is your fortune, my pretty maid p'
"My face is my fortune, sir,” she said.

"Then I can't marry you, my pretty maid.”
"Nobody ax'd you, sir,” she said.


[Tune—“Tortoiseshell Tom Cat.”] Oh, what a row, what a rumpus, and a rioting,

All those endure, you may be sure, who go to sea; A ship is a thing that you never can get quiet in, By wind or by steam, 'tis all the same, 'twas so

with me. Wife and daughter on the water said they'd like to

sail a bit ; I consented, soon repented, soon began to rail a bit“Papa, now pray do go to-day, the weather's so in

viting, lauki I'm sure 't will do such good to you, they feed you like a fighting-cock."

Oh what, &c.


In a boat I got afloat, as clumsy as an elephant,
So spruce and gay to spend the day, and make a

splash; Gad! it's true I did it, too, for stepping in I fell

off on't, And overboard, upon my word, I went slap dash. Wife squalling, daughter bawling, everything provok

ing me; Callid a “hoy,” "poodle dog," all the sailors joking

me; Dripping wet, in a pet, with many more distressables, A fellow. took the long boat-hook, and caught my inexpressibles.

Oh what, &c.

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