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THE LANDLADY OF FRANCE. |
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Thou dove, whose soft echo resounds from the hill! Thou green-crested lapwing, with noise loud and shrill! Ye wild whistling warblers! your music forbear I I charge you disturb not the slumbering fair.
Thy crystal stream, Afton, how lovely it glides, And winds by the cot where my Mary resides 1 There oft, as mild evening weeps over the lea, Thy sweet-scented groves shade my Mary and me. Flow gently, sweet Afton, among thy green braes; Mow gently, sweet river, the theme of my lays; My Mary's asleep by thy murmuring stream— Flow gently, sweet Afton, disturb not her dream. |
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THE LANDLADY OF FRANCE,
A Rare Old Comic Song.
Air—-" Yankee Doodle."
A landlady of France loved an officer, 'tis said, And this officer he dearly loved her brandy, oh.
Sighed she, li I love this officer, although his nose is red, And his legs are what his regiment call bandy, oh."
But when the bandy officer was ordered to the coast,
How she tore her lovely locks, that looked so sandy, oh! "Adieu, my soull" said she; "if you write, pray pay the
post— And, before we part, let's take a drop of brandy, oh."
She filled him out a bumper just before he left the town, And another for herself so neat and handy, oh;
So they kept their spirits up by pouring spirits down, For love is like the colic, cured with brandy, oh.
"Take a bottle on't," says she, " for you're going into camp; In your tent, you know, my love, 'twill be the dandy, oh. "You're right, my love," says he, "for a tent is very damp, " And 'tis better with my tent to take some brandy, oh." |
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