is wing.
Poor thing!

CL.

[From W. Wager's play, called 'The longer thou livest, the
more foole thou art,' 4to, Lond.]

The white dove sat on the castle wall,
I bend my bow and shoot her I shall;
I put her in my glove both feathers and all;
I laid my bridle upon the shelf,
If you will any more, sing it yourself.

CLI.

Elsie Marley is grown so fine,
She won't get up to serve the 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 said to have been a merry alewife who lived
near Chester, and the remainder of this song relating to her
will be found in the 'Chester Garland,' 12mo, n.d. The first
four lines have become favourites in the nursery.]

CLII.

London bridge is broken down,
Dance o'er my lady lee;
London bridge is broken down,
With a gay lady.

How shall we build it up again?
Dance o'er my lady lee;
How shall we build it up again?
With a gay lady.

Silver and gold will be stole away,
Dance o'er my lady lee;
Silver and gold will be stole away,
With a gay lady.

Build it up again with iron and steel,
Dance o'er my lady lee;
Build it up with iron and steel,
With a gay lady.

Iron and steel will bend and bow,
Dance o'er my lady lee;
Iron and steel will bend and bow,
With a gay lady.

Build it up with wood and clay,
Dance o'er my lady lee;
Build it up with wood and clay,
With a gay lady.

Wood and clay will wash away,
Dance o'er my lady lee;
Wood and clay will wash away,
With a gay lady.

Build it up with stone so strong,
Dance o'er my lady lee;
Huzza! 'twill last for ages long,
With a gay lady.

CLIII.

Old Father of the Pye,
I cannot sing, my lips are dry;
But when my lips are very well wet,
Then I can sing with the Heigh go Bet!

[This appears to be an old hunting song. _Go bet_ is a very
ancient sporting phrase, equivalent to _go along_. It occurs
in Chaucer, Leg. Dido, 288.]

CLIV.

[Part of this is in a song called 'Jockey's Lamentation,' in
the 'Pills to Purge Melancholy,' 1719, vol. v, p. 317.]

Tom he was a piper's son,
He learn'd to play when he was young,
Bu