ent roun' vrom tongue to tongue, min,
Then Gammon pitch'd his merry vaice,
An' here's the zong he zung, min.

_Zong._

If you'll but let your clackers rest
Vrom jabberen an' hooten,
I'll teaeke my turn, an' do my best,
To zing o' sparrow shooten.
Since every woone mus' pitch his key,
An' zing a zong, in coo'se, lads,
Why sparrow heads shall be to-day
The heads o' my discoo'se, lads.

We'll zend abroad our viery hail
Till ev'ry foe's a-vled, lads,
An' though the rogues mid all turn tail,
We'll quickly show their head, lads.
In corn, or out on oben ground,
In bush, or up in tree, lads,
If we don't kill em, I'll be bound,
We'll meaeke their veathers vlee, lads.

Zoo let the belted spwortsmen brag
When they've a-won a neaeme, so's,
That they do vind, or they do bag,
Zoo many head o' geaeme, so's;
Vor when our cwein is woonce a-won,
By heads o' sundry sizes,
Why, who can slight what we've a-done?
We've all a-won _head_ prizes.

Then teaeke a drap vor harmless fun,
But not enough to quarrel;
Though where a man do like the gun,
He can't but need the barrel.
O' goodly feaere, avore we'll start,
We'll zit an' teaeke our vill, min;
Our supper-bill can be but short,
'Tis but a sparrow-bill, min.

GAMMONY GA[:Y].

Oh! thik Gammony Gay is so droll,
That if he's at hwome by the he'th,
Or wi' vo'k out o' door, he's the soul
O' the meeten vor antics an' me'th;
He do cast off the thoughts ov ill luck
As the water's a-shot vrom a duck;
He do zing where his naighbours would cry
He do laugh where the rest o's would sigh:
Noo other's so merry o' feaece,
In the pleaece, as Gammony Gay.

An' o' worken days, Oh! he do wear
Such a funny roun' hat,--you mid know't--
Wi' a brim all a-strout roun' his heaeir,
An' his glissenen eyes down below't;
An' a cwoat wi' broad skirts that do vlee
In the wind ov his walk, round his knee;
An' a peaeir o' girt pockets lik' bags,
That do swing an' do bob at his lags:
While me'th do walk out drough the pleaece,
In the feaece o' Gammony Gay.

An' if he do goo over groun'
Wi' noo soul vor to greet wi' his words,
The feaece o'n do look up an' down,
An' round en so quick as a bird's;
An' if he do vall in wi' vo'k,
Why, tidden vor want ov a joke,
If he don't zend em on vrom the pleaece
Wi' a smile or a grin on their