THE HACKNEY COACHMAN; OR, THE WAY TO GET A GOOD FARE. TO THE TUNE OF "I WISH I WAS A FISHERMAN." I AM a bold coachman, and drive a good hack, Though poor, we are honest and very content; And while at a tavern my gentleman tarries, The coachman grows richer than he whom he carries; "And I'd rather," said I, "since it saves me from sin, Be the driver without, than the toper within." Yet tho' dram-shops I hate, and the dram-drinking friend, When a riotous multitude fills up a street, And the greater part know not, boys, wherefore they meet, Now to church if I take some good lady to pray, Then my glasses are whole, and my coach is so neat, Though my beasts should be dull, yet I don't use them ill ; And though I'm a coachman, I'll freely confess, I beg of my Maker my labors to bless; I praise him each morning, and pray every night; When I drive to a funeral, I care not for drink ; That is not the moment to guzzle, but think; ROBERT AND RICHARD; OR, THE GHOST OF POOR MOLLY, WHO WAS DROWNED IN RICHARD'S MILL-POND. TUNE "COLLINS'S MULBERRY-TREE.' QUOTH Richard to Bob, "Let things go as they will, my In frolic and mirth I see nothing amiss, fill; And, though I get tipsy, what harm is in this? "For e'en Solomon says,—and I vow he says truth,Rejoice, O young man, in the days of thy youth.' "I'm glad," answered Bob, "you're of Solomon's creed ; But I beg, if you quote him, you'll please to proceed; "For 'God (as the wise man continues to sing) "Come, come," says gay Richard, "don't grudge me a cup; Says Robert, "I grant, if you live for to-day, Says Richard, "When sickness or peevish old age But while young I'll be jolly-what harm is in this?" They parted; and Richard his pastimes begun- Young Molly he courted, the pride of the plain; Thus scorned by her Richard, sad Molly ran wild, One evening, in Richard's own mill-pond both drowned. Then his conscience grew troubled by night and by day, But its clamor he drowned in more drink and more play ; Still Robert exhorted, and, like a true friend, He warned him, and prayed him to think on the end! Now disturbed in his dreams, poor Molly, each night, She talked of the woes and unquenchable fire Now beggared by gaming, distempered by drink, He died of old age in the prime of his youth. On his tomb-stone good Robert these verses engraved, Which he hoped some gay fellow might read and be saved: THE EPITAPH. Here lies a poor youth, who called drinking his bliss, And learn of poor Dick to remember the end! THE CARPENTER; OR, THE DANGER OF EVIL COMPANY THERE was a young west country man, A carpenter by trade, A skilful wheelwright too was he, And few such wagons made. No man a tighter barn could build, His father left him what he had,— A little cottage too he had, For ease and comfort planned; A pleasant orchard too there was Of cider and of corn likewise Active and healthy, stout and young, What man more blessed could be? To make his comfort quite complete, Frugal, and neat, and good was she, Where is the lord, or where the squire, The goodness of that bounteous hand |