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                    THE

       ROCHESTER LASS.

IN Rochester City a young damsel did
       dwell,
For wit and for beauty none could her
       excel,
Admired she was and had many a suitor.
    But one youth above all he loved her
       full well,
This charming young lad he was a brisk
       sailor,
   Long time had he been ploughing the
       watery main,
The enemy insulted the British flag royal,
    He was summoned to go with them again

This jolly young sailor as true as reported,
    Had but a very few weeks on the shore,
But has he and his true love together
       were walking
   By a large press he from her was tore,
They cried we perceive you are a young
         sailor
    That's fit to fight for your country and
         King,
And we want sailors you must plough the
         ocean,
No excuse we will have you must face
         the bold.

It was early one morning as the day was
       dawning,
This blooming young fair one a letter
       receiv'd
'Twas to inform her the ship had weigh'd
       anchor,
With grief and vexation this fair one
       was grieved,
She said O the waves they do prove cruel,
    They robbed me of one I esteemed so
         dear,
My mind is tormented with grief and
         vexation,
While from her bright eye fell many a
         tear,

It was wrote in these words love don't be
       surprised,
Once more I'm compell'd to plough the
       rough sea,
But nevertheless my dear girl don't be
       greived,
    To you and you only constant I'll be,
Though many a fair one I shall see there's
       no doubt on't
When our ship is in port or the harbour
               she lays.
No one shall induce me to think of another
    While I am away I hope in return you
       will do so by me.

So adieu my dear Sally till next time I see
       you,
Our ship's bound to India all with a
       free gale,
Quite early tomorrow the day is appointed
   All hands must prepare to go and not
       fail,
So heavens protect you until next
       meeting,
    Which I hope will soon be when the
       wars may be o'er,
And then my dear Sally we will be united
       in sweet harmony,
    And lead our lives happy when secure
       on the shore.

       Gaily the Troubadour

    TOUCHED HIS GUITAR.

GAILY the Troubadour touch'd his guitar,
As he was hasteaing home from the war ;
Singing, From Palestine hither I come,
Lady love, lady love, welcome me home.
She for the troubadour hoplesaly wept ;
Sadly she thought of him while cabers slept,
Singing in search of thee, would I might roam,
Troubadour, Troubadour, come to thy home.
Hark ! 'twas the troubadour breathing her name,
And from the battlements softly he came,
Singing, From Palestine hither I come,
Lady love, lady love, welcome me home !

Henson, Printer, &c., Lower End of Bridge
              Street, Northampton.