SONG S. Calcavelle. I. THE gods at a feaft, which old Janus prepar'd, The dinner being done, the table was spread II. Firft Jove, as was proper, laid hold of the glafs, III. The name of the wine Jove demanded in hafte, IV. Derry down. Then old Janus arofe, and bowing reply'd, Derry down. V. Calcavelle, faid Great Jove, but he drank e'er he spoke, Then ordered Ganymede, his cellars to fill, VI. ! Derry down. A boon cry'd old Janus, thus lowly I bend, VII. Derry downt That I will, aid Great Jove, and straitway I'll send VIII. Since the gods, my good friends, approve of this liquor, *The Author is Coroner. The Poft - Horn. I. ON Pegafus mounted, fee the Poft-mafter comes, Let horns now be founded, 'ftead of trumpets and drums; Tho' trumpets and drums may ferve for a host, II.. My horn is fuperior to hautboys and flutes, With my horn, I like Orpheus, can charm all the brutes, When my tan-tivy founds, it plainly appears, The cow cocks her tail, the afs pricks his ears. III. Derry down. The pigs grunt with pleasure, the horse neighs aloud, IV. Derry down. No mufic fo ancient, therefore none so good, They had horns in great plenty, before Noah's flood; That kings, lords and commons, have all blown their horns. V. Derry down. Our wives are call'd CONSORTS; and why? you will ask. I humbly conceive 'tis because they can bring VI. Derry down. Some husbands contented, as I have been told, With wearing of horns, if tipped with gold; Derry down. VII. In VII. In George the Third's reign, full many a fair spouse, With a pair of these antlers, has adorn'd her love's brows, To fulfill the scripture, the sweet creature labours To exalt her dear's horns, 'bove that of her neighbours. VIII. Derry down. A comb's made of horn, and therefore 'tis faid IX. As a fortified town is better by far, Than a place that's unarm'd to keep off the war, X. An enemy goes to attack a strong town, Derry down. Brave Elliot to keep it from Spaniards like Turks, XI. Derry down. As an emblem of plenty, Pomona is drawn The Happy Swain. I. WITH the lark, when I rife, and thro' the grove ftray Each warbler's fweet note that I hear; The fun juft appearing to open the day! Are emblems of Chloe my fair! II. The meadows in May, with flowers bespread, All bloffoms and fhrubs, when fragrance they shed! III. The brifk lambs in the field, when sporting they play, (Whofe looks figns of innocence are) The breath of the cow, and scent of new hay, IV. Fellow mortals, I grieve amidst all my joy, That heaven to soften your care, Has not fent each a nymph, that never can cloy, Nelly Green. I. HOW fwiftly flew the golden hours, On the downy wings of love, But O! how chang'd! the blissful fcene, II. The |