1. Gracious Saviour, we adore thee; Purchased by thy precious blood,
We present ourselves before thee, Now to walk the narrow road: Saviour
2. Thou didst mark our path of duty; Thou wast laid beneath the wave;
Thou didst rise in glorious beauty From the semblance of the grave; May we
guide us, Guide us to our heavenly home.
follow In the same delightful way.

The governor of Huaiyang, arm and leg to the ruler,
served his term from a bed of ease
And this post of mine, far in the southern hills?
Hardly different from a hermit's life!
Incessant rains — busy season for farmers:
straw hats gather in fallow fields to the east.
Daytime my state chambers are always closed,
few law suits to hear on the grass-grown terrace
Soft mats refresh me in the summer rooms,
light fans stir a cooling breeze
Tasty bream I am urged to try,
helping myself to the best strained wine

Got the blues, can't be satisfied
Got the blues, can't be satisfied
Keep the blues, I'll catch that train and ride

Whiskey straight will drive the blues away
Whiskey straight will drive the blues away
That be the case, I want a quart today

Bought my gal a great big diamond ring
Bought my gal a great big diamond ring
Come right back home and caught her shaking that thing

I said, Baby, what makes you act this-a-way
I said, Baby, why do you act this-a-way
Said I won't miss a thing she gives away

Good-night to the Season! 'tis over!
Gay dwellings no longer are gay;
The courtier, the gambler, the lover,
Are scatter'd like swallows away:
There's nobody left to invite one,
Except my good uncle and spouse;
My mistress is bathing at Brighton,
My patron is sailing at Cowes:
For want of a better employment,
Till Ponto and Don can get out,
I'll cultivate rural enjoyment,
And angle immensely for trout.

Good-night to the Season!--the lobbies,
Their changes, and rumours of change,
Which startled the rustic Sir Bobbies,

A goodly number shipped as crew;
some helped to set the sail and trim it,
while others, straining to the limit,
dug deep the oars. In silence, too,
our trusty helmsman checked our motion
and, wordless, steered our weighty craft;
while I, still carefree, sang and laughed
to cheer the oars . . . Then fore and aft
a roaring tempest ripped the ocean,
engulfing helmsman, mast, and yard!--
But I, the enigmatic bard,
was saved and cast up on the shoreline,
and tune my lyre with skillful stroke,
while drying off my sodden cloak

Good, your worship, cast your eyes
Upon a Souldier's miseries;
Let not my leane cheekes, I pray,
Your bounty from a Souldier stay,
but, like a Noble friend,
some Silver lend,
and Jove shall pay you in the end:
and I will pray that Fate
may make you fortunate
in heavenly, and in Earth's, estate.

To beg I was not borne (sweet Sir)
And therefore blush to make this stirre;
I never went from place to place
For to divulge my wofull case:
for I am none of those
that roguing goes,
that, maunding, shewes their drunken blowes,

Good Toll-Gate keeper, kindle a light!
The Sun has fallen: full sudden the Night:
(He seemeth some ancient anchorite
Who broodeth, and heedeth us not.)

He heeds.

Stay by the Gate and tell your needs!
Sir, we would learn the lawful toll.
How many travellers?

Body and Soul.

How long have you journeyed together thus?
All Day, and nothing shall sunder us.

How have you fared? Was the roadway rough?
Some miles were stony and steep enough.

But why have you toiled and suffered so?

1.

Good people: What? Will you of all be bereft?
Will you never learn wit, while a penny is left?
We are all like the dog in the fable, betrayed,
To let go the substance and snap at the shade.
Our specious pretenses
And foreign expenses
To war for religion will waste all our chink.
It's clipped, and it's snipped,

Good people give attention and listen unto me,
While I relate a story of our sad destiny;
Out of one pound that we do get, a fourth they want to take,
And at our present prices, we scarce get bread to eat.

For now our masters have agreed our trade to overthrow,
Our wives and children as you see are filled with grief and woe;
But we will never yield to them nor their cruel laws,
But on the truth we will rely and still maintain our cause.

Were you to go round the town, their country seats to see,

Good people draw near as you pass along
And listen awhile to my alphabetical song.
A is Prince Albert once buxom and keen
Who from Germany came and got spliced to the Queen.
Chorus.

For they're all a spinning, their cause in triumph springing,
And the poor man he is singing since the Corn bill is repailed.

B stands for Smith O'Brien: he an Irishman so true
He hammered at Coercion till he beat them black and blue.
When he got out of prison that bill he did oppose,
With the fright he gave old Wellington, he fell and broke his nose.