ELSIE* Marley is grown so fine,
She won't get up to serve her swine,
But lies in bed till eight or nine,
And surely she does take her time.
And do you ken Elsie Marley, honey?
The wife who sells the barley, honey;
She won't get up to serve her swine,
And do you ken Elsie Marley, honey?
Elsie Marley is so neat,
It is hard for one to walk the street,
But every lad and lass they meet,
Cries do you ken Elsie Marley, honey?
Elsie keeps wine, gin, and ale,
In her house below the dale.
Where every tradesman up and down,
Does call and spend his half-a-crown.
* Elsie altered throughout to Alice, second edit.
The farmers as they come that way,
They drink with Elsie every day,
And call the fidler for to play
The tune of Elsie Marley, honey.
The pitmen and the keelmen trim,
They drink bumbo made of gin
And for to dance they do begin
The tune of Elsie Marley, honey.
The sailors they will call for flip,
As soon as they come from the ship,
And then begin to dance and skip,
To the tune of Elsie Marley, honey.
Those gentlemen that go so fine, They'll treat her with a bottle of wine, And freely they'll sit down and dine Along with Elsie Marley, honey.
So to conclude these lines I've penn'd
Hoping there's none I do offend
And thus my merry joke doth end
Concerning Elsie Marley, honey.
IN PRAISE OF THE DURHAM MILITIA.
Tune, The Lilies of France.
MILITIA boys for my theme I now chuse,
(Your aid I implore to assist me, my muse),
Whilst here I relate of the Durham youth's fame,
Who chearful appear'd when these new tidings came,
That to Barnardcastle they must march away,
Embody'd to be, without stop or delay.
What tho' some cowards have betook them to flight,
And for their king and country scorn for to fight,
Yet we Durham boys, who jovial appear,
Right honest we'll be, and we'll banish all fear,
When head of the front, how martial we see
Our Colonel so brave, so gallant and free.
Whose generous heart, by experience we know, Why need we then dread along with him to go? Then farewell, dear wives, and each kind sweetheart, Pray do not repine that from you we must part;
But, hark! the drums beat, and the fifes sweetly play, We're order'd to march now to Richmond straightway.
Where, cloathed in red, and in purple attire,
Our exercise then shall be all our desire,
Which having acquir'd, then we'll merrily sing,
Success to great George, and the Prussian king,
Likewise loyal Pitt, a statesman so bold,
Who scorns to be false, for interest or gold.
If then the Monsieurs should with their crafty guile,
E'er dare to molest us on Britain's fair isle,
We'll laugh at their fury, and malice so strong,
To Charon below how we'll hurl them headlong.
Do they think that our muskets useless shall be,
When in numbers great them advancing we see.
If they do, they're mista’en, we'll boldly proceed;
And conquer or die, ere ignobly we'll yield;
Then crowned with laurel, (for vent'ring our lives)
Home then we'll return to our sweethearts and wives,
What joy will be greater, our fame shall abound,
The bells then shall ring, and the trumpets shall sound.
Let each loyal Briton then fill up his glass,
For to drive care away, so round let it pass,
Drink a health to king George, who sits on his throne, (Whose power the French to their sorrow have known),
May the Heavens above preserve him from harm,
And ever defend him from foreign alarms.
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