When Christmas comes about again, Oh, then I shall have money; I’ll hoard it up, and box it all, I’ll give it to my honey: I would it were ten thousand pound, I’d give it all to Sally: She is the darling of my heart, And she lives in our alley. [Illustration] My master and the neighbors all Make game of me and Sally, And, but for her, I’d better be A slave and row a galley; [Illustration] But when my seven long years are out, Oh, then I’ll marry Sally! And then how happily we’ll live, But _not_ in our alley. [Illustration] [Illustration: “_EARLY ONE MORNING_”] “_EARLY ONE MORNING._” Early one morning, just as the sun was rising, I heard a maid sing in the valley below: “Oh, don’t deceive me! oh, never leave me! How could you use a poor maiden so? “Oh, gay is the garland and fresh are the roses I’ve culled from the garden to bind up my brow. Oh, don’t deceive me! oh, do not leave me! How could you use a poor maiden so? “Remember the vows you made to your Mary; Remember the bow’r where you vowed to be true. Oh, don’t deceive me! oh, do not leave me! How could you use a poor maiden so?” Thus sang the poor maiden, her sorrows bewailing; Thus sang the poor maid in the valley below: “Oh, don’t deceive me! oh, never leave me! How could you use a poor maiden so?” [Illustration] [Illustration] [Illustration: _Kitty of Coleraine_] [Illustration] [Illustration] _KITTY OF COLERAINE._ As beautiful Kitty one morning was tripping With a pitcher of milk from the fair of Coleraine, When she saw me she stumbled, the pitcher it tumbled, And all the sweet buttermilk water’d the plain. Oh, what shall I do now? ’Twas looking at you, now. Sure, sure, such a pitcher I’ll ne’er meet again. ’Twas the pride of my dairy. Oh, Barney M’Leary, You’re sent as a plague to the girls of Coleraine! [Illustration] [Illustration] [Illustration] [Illustration] I sat down beside her, and gently did chide her, That such a misfortune should give her such pain. A kiss then I gave her. Before I did leave her, She vow’d for such pleasure she’d break it again. ’Twas haymaking season. I can’t tell the reason-- Misfortunes will never come single--that’s plain-- For very soon after poor Kitty’s disaster, The devil a pitcher was whole in Coleraine. [Illustration] [Illustration: OLD KING COLE] _OLD KING COLE._