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Article NEW MUSIC. ← Page 3 of 4 →
Note: This text has been automatically extracted via Optical Character Recognition (OCR) software.
New Music.
That sooner than peach on her father Or halter him , she would much rather Be hang'd at th' Old Bailey next day , Or shipp'd off to Botany Bay;—Which was worse , with a lover at home , pri ' thee say ?
Accused of the murder , she wander'd about , Resolved not to let e ' en a particle out ; And she would have been auto-da-fe'd , Hang'd , quarter'd , or probably flayd , But Rosenburg ' s Count pity took on the Maid , And got her—a difficult thing—To be pardon d her crime by the King . All this happen'd not far from Rochelle—It mi ght have been anywhere else just as well .
One Corporal Schwartz , Who swill ' d beer by quarts , Came across her while taking a sleep Al fresco , and ventured a peep Beneath her blue bonnet;— He should ' nt'have done it , Foras ill luck would have ithis General came b
, , y , And having for beauty himself a sly eye , Our Corporal was sent , Guarded back to his tent , There to snooze off the fumes of his dozen of ale , And be fined in the morn—perhaps tell a worse tale .
Phis General was De Valmore , a hero in steel , Feathers , helmet , and sword , With everything else like a Lord , And cap-a-pied—arm'd from head to the heel . He and Clara were lovers ; a widower he , And a maid with a heart to be made love to , she : — But ' twill make your blood cold
When the secret is told'Twas his son that was kill'd by Montalban of old . One night he went into a chapel hard by , In a niche took his seat , like a Don in a Fly , And while he was there , Heard her sing a sweet prayer , Which wafted her souls to the regions of air :
Like birds of a feather , They soon sing together , As birds sometimes do in the early spring weather . By the dark man of blood a deep scheme had been laid , To one Michel betray'd , A smart lad of a blade , That Miss Clara should out of the way be convey'd :
Montalban , at night , by the aid of Michel , Lest his secret she'd tell , Was to sprite her away—Whither no one could say-High or low , she was not to he heard of next day .
Note: This text has been automatically extracted via Optical Character Recognition (OCR) software.
New Music.
That sooner than peach on her father Or halter him , she would much rather Be hang'd at th' Old Bailey next day , Or shipp'd off to Botany Bay;—Which was worse , with a lover at home , pri ' thee say ?
Accused of the murder , she wander'd about , Resolved not to let e ' en a particle out ; And she would have been auto-da-fe'd , Hang'd , quarter'd , or probably flayd , But Rosenburg ' s Count pity took on the Maid , And got her—a difficult thing—To be pardon d her crime by the King . All this happen'd not far from Rochelle—It mi ght have been anywhere else just as well .
One Corporal Schwartz , Who swill ' d beer by quarts , Came across her while taking a sleep Al fresco , and ventured a peep Beneath her blue bonnet;— He should ' nt'have done it , Foras ill luck would have ithis General came b
, , y , And having for beauty himself a sly eye , Our Corporal was sent , Guarded back to his tent , There to snooze off the fumes of his dozen of ale , And be fined in the morn—perhaps tell a worse tale .
Phis General was De Valmore , a hero in steel , Feathers , helmet , and sword , With everything else like a Lord , And cap-a-pied—arm'd from head to the heel . He and Clara were lovers ; a widower he , And a maid with a heart to be made love to , she : — But ' twill make your blood cold
When the secret is told'Twas his son that was kill'd by Montalban of old . One night he went into a chapel hard by , In a niche took his seat , like a Don in a Fly , And while he was there , Heard her sing a sweet prayer , Which wafted her souls to the regions of air :
Like birds of a feather , They soon sing together , As birds sometimes do in the early spring weather . By the dark man of blood a deep scheme had been laid , To one Michel betray'd , A smart lad of a blade , That Miss Clara should out of the way be convey'd :
Montalban , at night , by the aid of Michel , Lest his secret she'd tell , Was to sprite her away—Whither no one could say-High or low , she was not to he heard of next day .