BALLAD. (As Derm of toil'd one summer's day)

As Derm of toil'd one summer's day, Young Shelah, as she sat beside him, Fairly stole his heart away— Oh den to hear how she'd deride him.

Where, poor Dermot, is it gone, Your lilly lilly loodle? They've left you nothing but the drone, And that's yourself, you noodle.

Beum bum boodle loodle loo, Poor Dermot's pipe is lost and gone, And what will the poor devil do?

Fait now I am undone and more, Cry'd Dermot—ah will you be easy? Did not you stale my heart before? Is it you'd have a man run crazy?

I've nothing left me now to moan, My lilly lilly loodle, That used to cheer me so, is gone— Ah Dermot thou'rt a noodle.

Beum bum boodle loodle lo, My heart, and pipe, and peace are gone— What next will cruel Shelah do?

But Shelah hearing Dermot vex, Cry'd she, 'twas little Cupid mov'd me, Ye fool, to steal it out of tricks, Only to see how much you lov'd me.

Come cheer thee Dermot, never moan, But take your lilly loodle, And for the heart of you that's gone, You shall have mine you noodle.

Beum bum boodle loodle loo, Shelah's to church with Dermot gone, And for the rest, what's dat to you.