Ah! let us join in the toast,
In the song and the revelling,
Passing the night in mirthful pleasure,
While love shall teach us how to treasure
This paradise on earth.
I may think I have heard sublimer compositions than the following, sung
by Mrs Caulfield with great applause:--
Fare you well, my own Mary Anne,
Fare you well for a while:
For the ship it is ready, and the wind it is fair,
And I am bound for the sea, Mary Anne.
Fare you well, &c.
Don't you see that turtle dove,
A sitting on yonder pile,
Lamenting the loss of its own true love?--
And so am I for mine, Mary Anne.
Fare you well, &c.
A lobster in a lobster-pot,
A blue-fish wriggling on a hook,
May suffer some, but, oh! no not
What I do feel for my Mary Anne.
Fare you well, &c.
The pride of all the produce rare,
That in our kitchen-garden grow'd,
Was pumpkins, but none could compare
In angel-form to my Mary Anne.
Fare you well, &c.
or of the following, sung by Mrs Caulfield with still greater applause:--
Down in Skytown lived a maid,
Sing song Polly won't you try me, oh?
Churning butter was her trade,
Sing song Polly won't you try me, oh?
She loved a feller whose name was Will,
Sing song Polly won't you try me, oh?
His dad he used to own the mill,
Sing song Polly won't you try me, oh?