Songs, Song

The card invites, in crowds we fly To join the jovial rout, full cry; What joy from cares and plagues all day, To hie to the Midnight Hark-away!

Nor want, nor pain, nor grief, nor care, Nor dronish husbands enter there; The brisk, the bold, the young, the gay, All hie to the Midnight Hark-away.

Uncounted strikes the morning clock, And drowsy watchmen idly knock; Till day-light peeps, we sport and play, And roar to the jolly Hark-away.

When tir'd with sport to bed we creep, And kill the tedious day with sleep; To-morrow's welcome call obey, And again to the Midnight Hark-away.