COUNTRY LOVERS.

"Then we will live, both I and you,
"In Father's t'other room,

"For that will sartain hold us two,
"When we've mov'd out the loom."

Yankey doodle, &c.

"Next Sabbath-day we will be cried, "And have a "taring" wedding,

"And lads and lasses take a ride,

"If it should be good sledding."

Yankey doodle, &c.

"My father has a nice bull calf,

"Which shall be your's, my sweet one, ""Twill weigh two hundred and a half,”Says Sal, "well, that's a neat one."

Yankey doodle, &c.

COUNTRY LOVERS.

"Your father's full of fun d'ye see, "And faith, 1 likes his sporting, "To send his fav'rite calf to me,

"His nice bull-calf a courting."

"Put on your streaked trowses,*

"Then vow'd you could not see the town,

"There were so many houses?"

Yankey doodle, &c.

Our lover hung his under lip,

He thought she meant to joke him;

Like heartless hen, that has the pip,

His

courage all forsook him.

Yankey doodle, &c.

* Vulgar pronunciation of the word trowsers.

COUNTRY LOVERS.

For he to Boston town had been,

As matters here are stated,

Came home, and told what he had seen,
As Sally has related.

Yankey doodle, &c.

And now he wish'd he could retreat,
But dar'd not make a racket,

It seem'd as if his heart would beat

The buttons off his jacket!

Yankey doodle, &c.

Sal ask'd him "if his heart was whole,"

His chin began to quiver,

He said, he felt so deuced * droll,

He guess'd he'd lost his liver!

Yankey doodle, &c.

* Deuced is a word in use, among the commonalty in New

England, for exceeding or extraordinary.

COUNTRY LOVERS.

Now Sal was scar'd out of her wits,
To see his trepidation,

She bawl'd, "he's going into fits,"

And scamper'd like the nation!

Yankey doodle, &c.

A pail of water she did throw,

All on her trembling lover,

Which wet the lad from top to toe,

Like drowned rat all over.

Yankey doodle, &c.

Then Jonathan straight hied him home,
And, since, I've heard him brag, Sir,
That though the jade did wet him some,
He didn't get the bag, Sir!

Yankey doodle, keep it up,

Yankey doodle dandy,

Mind the music, mind the step,

And with the girls be handy!

THE

OLD BACHELOR:

AN

EPISTLE TO A LADY.

WHAT singular mortal is that,

Who sits in yon cottage alone, Excepting an old tabby cat,

Which with her master is grown? grey

Say, would you his origin know,

Or if the odd mortal came here

From regions above, or below?

The truth I will tell

you, my

dear.

Dame Nature, a fanciful jade,

As ancient philosophers say,
When all other creatures were made,

Had left a small portion of clay.