I still hope he’ll be mine,
And live happy as any can be, O.
O my sweet laddie, &c.
THE INVITATION.
Neighbours I’m come for to tell ye, our skipper and Moll’s to be wed,
And if it be true what they’re saying, egad we’ll be all rarely fed;
They’ve brought home a shoulder of mutton, besides two thumping fat geese,
And when at the fire they’re roasting, we’re all to have sops in the grease.
Blind Willy’s to play on the fiddle.