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APOLLO STRUCK THE LYRE, THE MUSES SUNG
IN STRAINS ALTERNATE.

GLASGOW:

PRINTED BY A. MACGOUN,

MUSIC SELLER AND STATIONER, ARGYLE-STREET,
WHERE THE MUSIC OF THE SONGS IN THIS COLLECTION
MAY BE HADT

421.2

M987

1-31-51 MFP

English
Fletcher
6-22-50

5118

THE

MUSICAL BANQUET.

THE TIGHT LITTLE ISLAND.

DADDY Neptune, one day, to Freedom did fay,
If ever I live upon dry land,

The fpot I fhould hit on would be little Britain:
Says Freedom, Why that's my own island,
Oh! what a fnug little ifland,

A right little tight little island,
Search the globe round, none can be found,

So happy as this little ifland.

Julius Cæfar, the Roman, who yielded to no man,
Came by water, he couldn't come by land;

And Dane, Pict and Saxon, their homes turn'd their backs on,
And all for the fake of our ifland;

Oh! what a fnug little island,

They'd all have a touch at the ifland, Some were fhot dead,-fome of them fled,

And some stay'd to live in the island.

Then a very great war-man, called Billy the Norman,
Cried, Damn it, I never lik'd my land;

It would be much more handy to leave this Normandy,
And live on yon beautiful ifland.

Says he, 'tis a fnug little ifland,
Shan't us go vifit the island:

Hop, skip, and jump,-there he was plump,

And he kick'd up a duft in the island,

Yet party deceit help'd the Normans to beat,
Of traitors they manag'd to buy land,

By Dane, Saxon, or Pict we ne'er had been lick'd,
Had they ftuck to the king of the island;

Poor Harold the king of the island,

He loft both his life and his island, That's very true,-what could he do?

Like a Briton he died for his island.

Then the Spanish Armada fet out to invade a',
Quite fure, if they ever came nigh land,
They cou'dn't do no less than tuck up queen Befs,
And take their full fwing in the island;

Oh the poor queen of the island,

The drones came to plunder the island. But fnug in her hive-the queen was alive, And buz was the word at the island.

These proud puff'd up cakes, thought to make ducks and drakes,
Of our wealth, but they scarcely could fpy land,
E'er our Drake had the luck, to make their pride duck,
And stoop to the lads of the island;
Huzza, for the lads of the island;

The good wooden walls of the island:

Devil or don,-let 'em come on,

But, how would they come off at the island.

I don't wonder much, that the French and the Dutch,
Have fince been oft tempted to try land;

And I wonder much lefs, they have met no fuccefs,
For why should we give up our island:

Oh! 'tis a wonderful island,

All of 'em long for the island:

Hold a bit there, (let 'em)—take fire and air;

But we'll have the fea and the island.

T

Then, fince Freedom and Neptune have hitherto kept tune,
In each faying, This shall be my

land:

Should the army of England, or all they could bring land;

We'd fhow 'em fome play for the island;
We'd fight for our right to the island,
We'd give 'em enough of the island:
Frenchmen fhould juft,-bite at our dust,
But not a bit more of the iiland.

ON ADMIRAL DUNCAN'S VICTORY.

ENROLL'D in our bright annals lives full many a gallant

name,

But never British heart conceiv'd a prouder deed of fame, But never British heart conceiv'd, but never British heartconceiv'd,

A prouder deed of fame, a prouder deed of fame.

To fhield our liberties and laws, to guard our fov'reign's

crown,

Than noble Duncan's mighty arm atchiev'd off Camperdown.
To fhield our liberties and laws, to guard our fov'reign's

crown,

Immortal be the glorious deed atchiev'd off Camperdown.

October the eleventh it was, he fpied the Dutch at nine,
The British signal flew to break their close embattl❜d line;
Their line was broke, for all our tars on that aufpicious day
All bitter memory of the past had vow'd to wipe away.
Their line was broke, &c.

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