it, O.
Till I do zee her zit upright
Behind the ho'ses neck, O,
A-holden wi' the rain so tight
His tossen head in check, O,
Where flow'ry groun' wi' floor o' green
Do bear but vew, so good an' true.

I wish I had my own free land
To keep a ho'se to ride, O,
I wish I had a ho'se in hand
To ride en at her zide, O.
Vor if I wer as high in rank
As any duke or lord, O,
Or had the goold the richest bank
Can shovel from his horde, O,
I'd love her still, if even then
She wer a leaeser in a glen.

HEEDLESS O' MY LOVE.

Oh! I vu'st know'd o' my true love,
As the bright moon up above,
Though her brightness wer my pleasure,
She wer heedless o' my love.
Tho' 'twer all gay to my eyes,
Where her feaeir feaece did arise,
She noo mwore thought upon my thoughts,
Than the high moon in the skies.

Oh! I vu'st heaerd her a-zingen,
As a sweet bird on a tree,
Though her zingen wer my pleasure,
'Twer noo zong she zung to me.
Though her sweet vaice that wer nigh,
Meaede my wild heart to beat high,
She noo mwore thought upon my thoughts,
Than the birds would passers by.

Oh! I vu'st know'd her a-weepen,
As a rain-dimm'd mornen sky,
Though her teaer-draps dimm'd her blushes,
They wer noo draps I could dry.
Ev'ry bright tear that did roll,
Wer a keen pain to my soul,
But noo heaert's pang she did then veel,
Wer vor my words to console.

But the wold times be a-vanish'd,
An' my true love is my bride.
An' her kind heart have a-meaede her.
As an angel at my zide;
I've her best smiles that mid play,
I've her me'th when she is gay,
When her tear-draps be a-rollen,
I can now wipe em away.

THE DO'SET MILITIA.

Hurrah! my lads, vor Do'set men!
A-muster'd here in red ageaen;
All welcome to your ranks, a-spread
Up zide to zide, to stand, or wheel,
An' welcome to your files, to head
The steady march wi' tooe to heel;
Welcome to marches slow or quick!
Welcome to gath'rens thin or thick;
God speed the Colonel on the hill,[D]
An' Mrs Bingham,[E] off o' drill.

When you've a-handled well your lock,
An' flung about your rifle stock
Vrom han' to shoulder, up an' down;
When you've a-lwoaded an' a-vired,
Till you do come back into town,
Wi' all your loppen limbs a-tired,
An you be dry an' burnen hot,
Why here's your tea an' coffee pot
At Mister