Caps shall huzza, huzza, huzza.
Now Sir _Cloudsly's_ Health Boys,
And Trumpets sound each Day,
Whilst the Thundring Cannon
Loudly do roar huzza, huzza, huzza.

Brave _Peterborough's_ Health Boys,
Who boldly makes his way,
While the _French_ run let's huzza, huzza, huzza;
Brave _Peterborough's_ Health Boys,
And let the Haut-boys play,
While the Drums and the Trumpets
Sound as they March huzza, huzza, huzza.

Now now brave _Leak's_ Health,
Who is sailed away,
For to find the _French_ Fleet let's huzzza, huzza, huzza,
Now now brave _Leak's_ Health,
Who'll shew the _French_ fair play,
While the Drums and the Trumpets,
Sound from on Board, huzza, huzza, huzza.

_The_ BEAU'S _Ballad. Occasioned by the sight of a White Marble_
SIDE-TABLE.

[Music]

A Pox on the Fool,
Who could be so dull,
To contrive such a Table for Glasses:
Which at the first sight,
The Guests must affright,
More by half than their Liquor rejoyces.

'Tis so like a Tomb,
That whoever does come
Can't look on't without thus reflecting;
Heaven knows how soon,
We must lye under one,
And such Thoughts must needs be perplexing.

Then away with that Stone.
Break it, throw it down,
To some Church or other, else fling't in:
'Tis fitter by far,
To have a place there,
Than stand here to spoil Mirth and good Drinking.

There Death let it show,
To those who will go,
And Monuments there gaze and stare at;
We come here to live,
And sad Thoughts away drive,
With good store of immortal Claret.

Tho' the Glasses stand there,
They shan't do so here,
'Tis the only kind Lesson that teaches;
Whilst it seems to say,
Life's short, Drink away,
No time o'er your Liquor to Preach is.

Then fill up the Glass,
About let it pass,
Tho' the Marble of death doth remind us;
The Wine shall ne'er die,
Tho' you must and I,
We'll not leave a drop of't behind us.

_A_ SONG.

[Music]

Underneath the Castle Wall, the Queen of
Love sat mourning,
Tearing of her golden Locks, her red Rose,
Cheeks adorning;
With her Lilly white Hand she smote her Breasts,
And said she was forsaken,
With that the Mountains they did skip,
And the Hills fell all a quaking.

Underneath the rotten Hedge, the Tinkers
Wife sat shiting,
Tearing of a Cabbage Leaf, her shitten A--