He took a stick, and follow'd quick
Unto the lasses' room:
Come out! says she; Come out! says he,
The Kitty is your doom!
While on the bell she did play knell,
Poor Johnny, pale, came forth,
All in dismay, like potters' clay,
Stood pious Parson Garth!
A Chamber Council there was held,
All in this naked plight;
The dire alarm had brought a swarm
O' guardians o' the night:
In vain they strove to gain his love,
His wrath for to appease,
He swore he'd have their boxes search'd,
And cried—Produce the keys!
They nothing found that he could own—
His heart more callous grew,
He tore their caps, destroy'd their hats—
Them on the floor he threw:
Like pilgrims setting out, unshod,
To prison they were sent,
To dread their penance, like the sweep,
Until they should repent.
To free the girls from guilt and shame,
And have the matter clear'd,
Those sweetly serenading "Two-
Foot Carpenters"[49] appear'd.
Tho' Willy cannot get his boots,
For them he does not care—
They won the day!—"none but the brave
Deserve to win the fair."
Should you not know this worthy man—
A man of steady gait,
A pensive look affects as tho'
He'd something in his pate:
Ambition and presumption too
In him have taken birth,
And fix'd a stigma on his name—
"The Hydra of the Garth!"
[49] Cloggers.
THE SKIPPER'S MISTAKE.
Tune—"The Chapter of Accidents."
Two jovial souls, two skippers bold,
For Shields did sail one morning,
In their awd keel, black as the Deil,
All fear and danger scorning.
The sky look'd bright, which prophesied
A fair and glorious day, man;
But such a thick Scotch mist cam on,
They could not see their way, man.
Fal, lal, &c.