THE BOLD SOLDIER.

I'll tell you of a soldier, who lately came from war, Who courted a lady of honor, rich and fair; Her fortune was so great that it scarcely could be told, But yet she lov'd the soldier, because he was so bold.

She said my dearest jewel, I would fain be your wife, But my dadda is so cruel, I fear he'll end my life; He took his sword and pistols, and hung them by his side, And swore that he would marry her, whatever might betide.

When they had been to church, and returning home again, Her old dadda met them, with seven armed men, O dear, said the lady, I fear we shall be slain, Fear nothing, my charmer, the soldier said again.

The old man to his daughter with a great frown did say, Is this your behavior? is this your merry day? Since you have been so silly, as to be a soldier's wife, Here in this lonesome valley, I'll end your pleasant life.

And then spake up the soldier, I do not like this prattle, Altho' I am a Bridegroom, and unprepar'd for battle; He snatch'd his sword and pistols, and made them all to rattle, And the lady held the horse, while the soldier fought the battle.

The first man he came to, he quickly had him slain, The next man he came to, he ran him through amain, Lets flee, cry'd the rest, for we soon shall all be slain, To fight with this brave soldier, is altogether vain.

Pray, stay your hand, the old man cry'd, you make my blood run cold, I'll give you with my daughter, five thousand pounds in gold; Fight on, said the lady, my portion is too small, O, stay your hand, dear soldier, and you shall have it all:

He took the soldier home, and acknowledg'd him his heir, 'Twas not because he lov'd him, but 'twas for dread and fear; There never is a soldier, who's fit to carry a gun, Will ever flinch, or start an inch, till the battle he has won.

Despise not a soldier because that he is poor, He's happy in the field as at the barrack door, Is bold brisk and airy, brave sociable and free, As willing to fight for love as for his Liberty,

SWEET PIG OF RICHMOND HILL.

ON Richmond Hill there feeds a pig, Which does that hill adorn, This pig so plump, so wond'rous big, A finer ne'er was born.

This pig so neat, so full of meat, As one I e'er could will; I'd fowls resign on thee to dine--- Sweet pig of Richmond hill.

Ye hardy trees who acorns bear, And form a shady grove, O fatten still this pig so rare, Till he can hardly move.

How happy must the swineherd be, Who calls this pig his own, Oh! might that bliss but fall to me, I'd dine on pig alone.