My love he plays the fiddle, and wanders up and down, And I sing at his elbow thro’ all the streets in town. We spend our days in harmony, and very seldom fight, Except when he’s his grog aboard, and I get queer at night. Then ladies all take warning by my true love and me, Tho’ cruel fate should cross you, remember constancy; Like me you’ll be rewarded, and have your heart’s delight, With fiddling in the morning, and a drop of gin at night. _THE ANSWER TO OH! CRUEL._ Oh! cruel was thy parents that envied our love, And cruel was the press-gang that gave me such a shove, That took me head and heels and put me in a sack, And to the water side one took me on his back. _Singing too rol loo rol, etc._ I thought I was to die, so I began to pray, ‘Why hang your lazy hide,’ one unto me did say, ‘If you don’t hold your clack I’ll throw you overboard.’ I thought to my dear Poll I shall never be restor’d. They soon a sailor made me with their cuffs and whip, I never lik’d their notions, I so often had to strip. The enemy appear’d. Oh! dreadful was the sight, The tarry lads so cheerfully preparing for the fight. The captain loudly bawling every man to his gun, I tried to skulk away, thinking I had none; But I very soon found out my skulking would not do, For an officer with sword in hand would quickly run me through. I waddled to the deck, but I rolled like an egg, When there came a whacking cannon-ball and took away my leg. I tumbled on my back and vented forth a sigh, When a bullet in a twinkling knock’d out my poor right eye. So from the cruel wars I am safe at home again, And by my fiddling a livelyhood obtain, And now you have proved true how happy shall we be-- We’ll pass the days and nights in love and harmony. Tho’ cruel was my fortune I haven’t lost the way Of getting grog at night by fiddling all the day; And tho’ I am depriv’d by a cruel cannon-ball, She’d rather have me as I am then ne’er a man at all. _THE FEMALE LIEUTENANT; OR, FAITHLESS LOVER REWARDED._ William was a youthful lover, William lov’d a lady fair; Bells did ring and birds did sing, As to the church they did repair. Then came twenty brisk young sailors, Drest in grand and rich array; Instead of William being married, Prest he was and sent away. Soon his true love follow’d after, By the name of William Carr; Her soft hands and milk-white fingers, All were smear’d with pitch and tar. Now behold the first engagement, Bold she fought among the rest; Her jacket open, void of danger, All expos’d her snow-white breast. When the captain came to hear it, He said, ‘What wind has brought you here?’ ‘Kind sir, I came to find my true love, Him you prest I love so dear.’