ill'd,
For you my dear Joy when I think you were kill'd.
_With a Fa la, la._

O my shoul my dear _Shela_, I'm glad you see me,
For if I were dead now, I could not see thee;
The Cuts in my Body, and the Scars in my Face,
I got them in Fighting for Her Majesty's Grace.

But oh my dear _Shela_ dost thou now love me,
So well as you did, e're I went to the Sea;
By _Cri----_ and St. _Pa----_ my dear Joy I do,
And we shall be Married to morrow Just now.

I'll make a Cabin for my dearest to keep off the Cold,
And I have a Guinea of yellow red Gold;
To make Three halfs of it I think will be best,
Give Two to my _Shela_ and the Tird to the _Priest_.

Old _Philemy_ my Father was full Fourscore Years old,
And tho' he be dead he'll be glad to be told;
That we Two are Married, my dear spare no cost,
But send him some Letter, upon the last Post.

_The Triumphs of_ PEACE, _or the_ WIDDOWS _and_ MAIDS _Rejoycing_.

[Music]

Dear Mother I am Transported,
To think of the boon Comrades;
They say we shall all be Courted,
Kind Widows as well as maids,
Oh! this will be joyful News:
_We'll dress up our Houses with Holly,
We'll broach a Tub of humming Bub,
To treat those that come with a rub a dub dub,
For dear Mother they'll make us Jolly._

Dear Mother to see them mounted,
'Twou'd tickle your Heart with Joy;
By me they all shall be counted,
Heroical Sons of _Troy_:

The Bells in the Steeples shall ring,
_We'll stick all our Houses with Holly_,
_We'll broach a Tub of humming Bub_,
_To treat those that comes with a rub a dub dub_,
_For dear Mother they'll make us Jolly_.

I'll dress me as fine as a Lady,
Against they come into the Town;
My Ribbonds are all bought ready,
My Furbelow-Scarf and Gown;
To pleasure the Warlike Boys,
_We'll dress up our Houses_, &c.

They are delicate brisk and Brawny,
Troth neither too lean nor fat;
No matter for being Tawny,
They're never the worse for that;
We'll give them a welcome Home,
_And dress up our Houses_, &c.

They come from the Field of Battle,
To quarter in Ladies Arms;
'Tis pretty to hear them Prattle,
And tell of their loud Alarms:
We'll Crown them with Garlands gay,
_And dress up our Houses_, &c.

Those boys are the Pride of _Britain_,
They love us and so they may;
Dear Mother it is but fitting,
We shou'd be a