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For soldiers to complain:
Should next campaign

Send us to him who made us, boys,
We're free from pain:
But if we remain,

A bottle and kind landlady
Cure all again.

TYROLESE SONG OF LIBERTY.

Merrily every bosom boundeth,

Merrily oh! Merrily oh!

Where the song of freedom soundeth,

Merrily oh! Merrily oh!

Where the song of freedom soundeth,

Merrily oh! Merrily oh!

There the warrior's arms

Shed more splendor;

There the maiden's charms

Shine more tender:

Every joy the land surroundeth,

Merrily oh! Merrily oh!

Merrily, merrily, merrily, merrily, merrily, inerrily oh! Merrily oh! Merrily oh!

Wearily every bosom pineth,

Where the bond of slavery twineth,

Wearily oh! Wearily oh!

Wearily oh! Wearily oh!

There the warrior's dart

Hath no fleetness;

There the maiden's heart

Hath no sweetness;

Every flower of life declineth,

Wearily oh! Wearily oh!

Wearily, wearily, &c.

Cheerily then from hill and valley,

Cheerily oh! Cheerily oh!

Like your native fountains sally,

Cheerily oh! Cheerily oh!

If a glorious death

Won by bravery,

Sweeter be than breath

Sigh'd in slavery;

Round the flag of freedom rally,

Cheerily oh! Cheerily oh!

Cheerily, cheerily, &c.

FOR THE FOURTH OF JULY.

AIR-" Yankee Doodle."

Yankee Doodle is the tune

Americans delight in ;

"Twill do to whistle, sing or play,
And just the thing for fighting.
CHORUS.-Yankee Doodle, boys, huzza!

Down outside, up the middle-
Yankee Doodle, fa, sol, la,

Trumpet, drum, and fiddle.]

Should Great Britain, Spain or France
Wage war upon our shore, sir,
We'll lead them such a woundy dance,
They'll find their toes are sore, sir.
Yankee Doodle, &c.

Should a haughty foe expect

To give our boys a caning,

We guess they'll find the lads have larnt
A little bit of training.

Yankee Doodle, &c.

I'll wager now a mug of flip,
And bring it on the table,
Put Yankee boys aboard a ship,
To beat them they are able.
Yankee Doodle, &c.

Then if they go to argufy,
I rather guess they'll find too,
We've got a set of tonguey blades,
To out-talk 'em, if they're mind to.
Yankee Doodle, &c.

America's a dandy place!

The people are all brothers:

And when one's got a pumpkin pie,
He shares it with the others.
Yankee Doodle, &c.

We work, and sleep, and pray in peace—
By industry we thrive, sir,
And if a drone won't do his part,
We'll scout him from the hive, sir.
Yankee Doodle, &c.

And then on INDEPENDENCE DAY,
(And who's a better right to?)
We eat and drink, and sing and play,
And have a dance at night too.
Yankee Doodle, &c.

Our girls are fair, our boys are tough,
Our old folks wise and healthy,
And when we've every thing enough,
We count that we are wealthy.
Yankee Doodle, &c.

We're happy, free, and well to do,
And cannot want for knowledge;

For almost every mile or two,
You find a school or college.
Yankee Doodle, &c.

The land we till is all our own!
Whate'er the price, we paid it;
Therefore we'll fight till all is blue,
Should any dare invade it.
CHORUS.-Yankee Doodle, boys, huzza!

Down outside, up the middleYankee Doodle, fa, sol, la,

Trumpet, drum, and fiddle.

JOHN ANDERSON MY JO.-By R. Burns.

JOHN Anderson my Jo, John,
When nature first began
To try her canny hand John,
Her masterwork was man;
And you aboon them a', John,
So trig from top to toe,
She prov'd to be no journey-work,
John Anderson my Jo.

And you aboon them a', &c.

John Anderson my Jo, John,
When first we were acquaint,
Your locks were like the sloe, John,
Your bonny brow was brent;
But now your brow is bald, John,
Your locks are like the snow,
Yet blessings on your frosty pow,
John Anderson my Jo.

But now your brow, &c.

John Anderson my Jo, John,
What pleasure 'tis to see

The young, the lively brood, John,
Bred up 'twixt you and me,
And ilka lad and lass, John,

In our footsteps to go,

Sure makes a heaven here on earth, ⚫
John Anderson my Jo.

And ilka lad and lass, &c.

John Anderson my Jo, John,
Fate's up and down we've kent,
Yet aye whate'er our lot, John,
We with it were content;
And that's the best of gear, John,

It frae us ne'er can go,

Tho' good be scant, love we'll ne'er want, John Anderson my Jo.

And that's the best of gear, &c.

John Anderson my Jo, John,
Life's hill we claim thegither,
And mony a canty day, John,
We've had wi' ane anither;

But now we're tott'ring down, John,
So hand in hand we go,

And we'll sleep thegither at the fit,
John Anderson my Jo.

But now we're tott'ring down, &c.

John Anderson my Jo, John,

When we again awake,

Our bairns we will collect, John,

And then our journey take;

For hearts devoid of guile, John,
Find friends where'er they go,
And seraphs bright shall guide us right,
John Anderson my Jo.

For hearts devoid of guile, &c.