BY HERBERT STOCKHORE, PRIVATE IN EARL FAUCONBERG'S YORKSHIRE NORTH RIDING VOLUNTEERS. Tune, "_Push about the Jorum_." Ye Stockton lads and lasses too, Come listen to my story, A dismal tale, because 'tis true, I've now to lay before ye; We must away, our rout is come, We scarce refrain from tears O, Shrill shrieks the fife, rough roars the drum, March, Yorkshire Volunteers, O. Fal lal lal la ral. Yet ere we part, my comrades say, Come, Stockhore, you're the poet, If ere you'd pen a grateful lay, 'Tis now the time to show it; Such usage kind, in these good towns, We've met from age and youth, sirs, Accept our heartfelt thanks, and once A poet sings the truth, sirs. Fal lal, &c. Ye lasses too, of all I see, Ye're fairest in the nation; Sweet buds of beauty's blooming tree, The top of the creation; Full many of our lads, I ween, Have got good wives and true, sirs, I wonder what our leaders mean, They have not done so too, sirs. Fal lal, &c. Perhaps--but hark! the thund'ring drum From love to arms is beating; Our country calls, we come, we come, Great George's praise repeating; He's great and good, long may he here Reign, every bliss possessing, And long may each true volunteer Behold him Britain's blessing. Fal lal, &c. Our valiant earl[200] shall lead us on, The nearest way to glory, Bright honour hails her darling son, And fame records his story; Dundas commands upon our lists The second, tho' on earth, sirs, No one his second to, exists, For courage, sense, and worth, sirs. Fal lal, &c. No venal muse before your view, Next sets a veteran bold, sirs, The praise to merit justly due, From Paul she cannot hold, sirs; His valour oft has bore the test, In war he's brisk and handy; His private virtues stand confest, In short, he's quite the dandy. Fal lal, &c. Brave Mackarall heads his grenadiers, They're just the lads to do it, And should the dons or lank Monsieurs Come here, he'll make them rue it. He'll roar his thunder, make them flee, With a row, row, row, row, rara, And do them o'er by land,--at sea, As Rodney did Langara.[201] Young Thompson and his lads so light Of foot, with hearts of steel, O, His country's cause shall nobly fight, And make her foes to feel, O, For should the frog-fed sons of Gaul, Come capering à la Francois, "My lads," said he, "we'll teach them all The light-bob country dance, A." Fal lal, &c.