The Syren: Part IV. Comic, Ingenious & Witty Songs, Song

Ye clouds of a dirt-colour dye, Besmut the bright face of the sun! And let not the moon's silver eye Make game of a lover undone! Brown, brown be the earth; and ye floods, Tumble back to your streams, or lie still! Ye beasts of the field to the woods! Ye feather'd fowls fly where you will!

Plague take it—this love's a vile passion; 'Tis not worth an honest man's care, It begins with a world of vexation; It ends in disgust or despair. These girls are so full of vagary, One never knows when they are right! They'll lead you a dance till you're weary, Then marry another in spite.

I pity these poor honest fellows, Tied fast to their aprons for life; They first give 'em cause to be jealous, Then,—"Dare you suspect your own wife?" I thought I'd secur'd my dear Moggy, As safe as a thief in a mill; But I'm popt in a hole that is boggy, And there I may lie if I will.

I found out a gift for my lass, I found out the maker at York; 'Twas an eye neatly fashion'd of glass, 'Twas a leg nicely finish'd of cork. "Special good are the members I bring," Said I; and, to please her the more, "My dear you will sind 'em the thing; For I tried, and I prov'd them before.

"Look here, my sweet creature, to grace, How charming this eye-ball doth shine; It will give a new bloom on your face; See, its fellow illuminates mine. Here's a limb! Your acceptance I beg: Oh, 'tis better than that log of wood; 'Tis a brother to this little pog;" And I caper'd as high as I could.

How false are the pleasures we know! How severe is the parg of disgrace! When I offer'd them both, and bow'd low; Why, she gave me a kick in the face. Disappointment so blinded mine eye, So consus'd the fine things I'd to say. That my path I could hardly espy, As in andgeon I hobbl'd away.