OpenLLM-France/wikimedia huggingface dataset:
# Two sailors outwitted, or, Eggs and bacon

THE
Two Sailors Outwitted;
OR,
Eggs and Bacon.
To which is added,
The Smart ROBIN GRAY.
The MARTIAL INVITATION.
The Jealous Husband well Paid.
The LOVER’S SUMMONS.
Entered according to Order.
* Two Sailors Outwitted
* The Smart Robin Gray
* The Martial Invitation
* The Jealous Husband Well Paid
* The Lover's Summons
This work was published before January 1, 1930, and is in the public domain worldwide because the author died at least 100 years ago.
Public domainPublic domainfalsefalse
# Two sailors outwitted, or, Eggs and bacon/The Smart Robin Gray

The SMART ROBIN GRAY.
(Tune, The Vicar and Moses)
Good neighbours draw near, And you quickly shall hear, A story that's true I dare say; A brisk wife of this town, To the races went down, Tip’d off with her smart Robin Gray. Sing tol de rol, &c.
But to mention the name Of this frolicksome dame, We dare not, for fear of the law; For the spiritual hound, Your pocket will wound: If on it he claps his strong paw.
​So then to proceed, Let me tell you with speed, Her gallant she met very nice; A bargain was struck, And the sweet little duck, Waddl’d off with her drake in a trice.
When they came to the green, Where the action was seen, He laid her right gently down; O! my poor Robin Gray, Hang it up, Sir, I pray, It is crampt,—let me put up my gown.
When all things were done, And the game lost and won, She smii’d and to him did say, I’m very well pleas’d, But my clothes are so teas’d, And you’vespoiled my smart Robin Gray.
O my sweet little dear, Your so nice and so chear, And your husband will be long away; Some money you’ll lack, Before he comes back,— There’s a guinea for a new Robin Grey.
They seem’d both content, And away home they went, Nor suspected that aught had been seen, For no one they could spy, Nor thought any nigh, When they sported so brisk on the green.
# Two sailors outwitted, or, Eggs and bacon/The Martial Invitation

The MARTIAL INVITATION.
Come ye lads, who wish to shine Bright in future story, Haste to arms, and form the line that leads to martial glory. Charge the musket, point the lance, brave the world of dangers; Tell the blust’ring sons of France, that we to fear are strangers.
Britain when the Lion’s rous’d, and her flag is rearing, Always finds our sons dispos’d to drub the foes that’s daring. &c.
Hearts of oak, with speed advance, pour your naval thunder On the trembling sons of France, and strike the world with wonder. &c.
Honour for the brave to share, that’s the noblest booty; Guard your coasts, protect the fair, for that’s a Briton’s duty. &c.
Now, since Spain to take their parts, forms a safe alliance, All unite, and British hearts may bid the world defiance. &c.
Beat the drum, the trumpet sound, manly and united, Danger face, maintain your ground, and see your country righted. &c.
# Two sailors outwitted, or, Eggs and bacon/The Jealous Husband Well Paid

The JEALOUS HUSBAND well paid.
To its own Proper Tune.
My father had no child but me, And all his care continually, Was for to have me married well; But under fortune’s frowns I fell.
For to an old miser he wedded me, His age it was three-score and three; And I myself about seventeen, I wish his face I ne’er had seen.
For when that I abroad do go, To meet a friend, to chat or so, If any man should salute me, It more encreases his jealousy.
A youthful squire drank to me, I pledg’d him with—my modesty, Thought it no harm, yet ne’ertheless, My husband did my shoulders dress.
And when that we do go to bed, To reap the joys for which we wed; He does so kick and pinch me too, That he my limbs leaves black and blue.
Next morning when that I arose, I strain in haste put on my clothes, And as he lay asleep in bed, I with a ladle broke his head.
​He took a stick and at me run, I took another—so begun, And round the room did beat him well, Until upon his knees he fell.
For ev’ry blow I gave him ten, Ask’d—would he jealous be again? No no, no no, my loving wife, 'If you will now but spare my life.'
# Two sailors outwitted, or, Eggs and bacon/The Lover's Summons

The LOVER’S SUMMONS.
A Rise thou mistress of my heart, and do not me disdain; Come now and quickly take the part, of me your conquer’d swain.
To you alone I am a slave, there’s none on earth can cure The flame that in my breast I have, for you I do endure.
Come now dear nymph, & ease the smart, of me your yielding swain, My love for you now in my heart, does constantly remain.
Now we in Hymen’s bands will wed, our hearts united be therefore, In love live without any dread, in joys for evermore.
FINIS.
# Auld Robin Gray (1790)

Auld Robin Gray;
WITH THE
A N S W E R.
To which is added,
The two Conſtant Lovers.
The W I D O W.
The Captain of L O V E.
Entered according to Order.
* Auld Robin Gray
* The Answer
* The Two Constant Lovers, Who Died by the Road
* The Widow
* The Captain of Love
This work was published before January 1, 1930, and is in the public domain worldwide because the author died at least 100 years ago.
Public domainPublic domainfalsefalse
# Auld Robin Gray (1790)/Auld Robin Gray

AULD ROBIN GRAY.
WHen the ſheep are in the fauld & the ky at hame, And a' the warld to ſleep are gane, The waes of my heart fa's in ſhow'rs frae me eye, When my goodman lies ſound by me.
Young Jamie loo'd me well, and he ſought me for his bride, But, ſaving a crown, he had naething beſide, To make that crown a pound, my Jamie gade to ſea, And the crown and the pound were baith for me.
He hadna' been awa' a week but only twa', When my mither ſhe fell ſick and the cow was ſtown awa’, My father brake his arm, and my Jamie gade to ſea, And auld Robin Gray came a courting o' me.
My father coudna' work, and my mither coudna' ſpin, I toil’d day and night, but their bread I coudna' win, And Rob maintain’d them baith, & wi' tears in his eye, Said, Jenny for their ſakes, O marry me.
My heart it ſaid nay, I look'd for Jamie back, But the wind it blew high, and the ſhip it was a wreck, The ſhip it was a wreck, why didna' Jenny die? And why did I live to cry waes me?
Auld Robin argu'd fair; tho’ my mither didna' ſpeak, She look'd in my face, till my heart was like to break, So they gied him my hand, tho' my heart was i' the ſea, And auld Robin Gray is a guidman to me.
I hadna' been a wife, a week but only four, When ſitting ſae mournfully at the door, I ſaw my Jamie's warth, but I didna' think it he, Till he ſaid I'm come back for to marry thee.
O fair did we greet, and muckle did we ſay, We took but ae kiſs, and we tore ourſelves away, I wiſh I were dead, but I'm no like to die, And why did I live, to ſay waes me.
​I gang like a ghaiſt, and I carena to ſpin, I darena think on Jamie for that wou’d be a ſin, But I’ll do my beſt, a guid wife to be, For auld Robin Grey is kind to me.
# Auld Robin Gray (1790)/The Answer

The A N S W E R.
I’VE got my Jenny bell to ſleep by my ſide, I’ll ever bleſs the day I got her for my bride; For ſhe’s but twenty-four, and I’m but ſixty-three, And yet ſhe is a kind and loving wife to me.
Young Jamie loe’d her well, & fought her for his wife, But he went to the ſea, and there he loſt his life, Full ſore ſhe did mourn, but it helped cou’dna be, Then I wiſh’d in my mind ſhe’d be a wife to me.
Her father got a fall by which his arm he broke, Her mother ſhe fell ſick, and little was their ſtock, They had but ae milk cow was ſtolen frae the byre, And my bonny Jenny Bell at working did not tyre.
Full ſore did ſhe work, and toil’d late and air, Her parents to ſupport, but ſcanty was their fare, I ſaid I would maintain them, if that ſhe would agree: And ever wou’d befriend them, if ſhe would marry me.
She ſaid, for to marry ſhe never did incline, Becauſe her deareſt Jamie was ever in her mind, She ne'er wou’d love another, ſo dear’s ſhe loved he, Therefore to my propoſal ſhe ne’er cou’d agree.
I applied to her mother, whoſe aged heart did bleed, Becauſe that I had often ſupported them indeed; She was loath to adviſe her, but ſaid ſhe’d happy be, If her daughter wou’d conſent to be a wife to me.
I made my Jenny preſents of ſilver broach and rings, Yet ſtill ſhe ſhun’d my preſence for all theſe handſome things At laſt I grew ſo ill that ſome thought I wou’d die, Then my bonny Jenny Bell came to viſit me.
​As ſoon as I beheld her this charming beauty bright, I ſaid, if ſhe wou'd marry me, I hoped yet to live, She kindly did encourage me, ſo I grew well again, So of my bonny Jenny Bell I grew wondrous ſain.
I've cloth'd her like a lady, ſhe like a queen appears, I'm younger like already by more than twenty years, She uſes me ſo kindly, ſo well we do agree, No mortal lives more friendly than Jenny Bell and me.
# Auld Robin Gray (1790)/The Widow

The W I D O W.
THE widow can bake, and the widow can brew, The widow can ſhape, the widow can ſew, And mony braw things the widow can do; Then have at the widow my laddie.
With courage attack her baith early and late, To kiſs her and clap her ye manna be blate, Speak well and do better, and that's the beſt gate, To win a young widow my laddie.
The widow ſhe's youthful, and never ae hair, The war o' the wearing, and has a good ſkair, Of every thing lovely, ſhe's witty and fair, And has a rich jointer, my laddie.
What could you wiſh better your pleaſures to crown, Than a widow, the bonnieſt toaſt in the town, With naething, but draw in your ſtool and ſit down, And ſport with the widow my laddie.
Then till’er and kill’er with courteſy dead, Tho' ſtark love and kindneſs be all you can plead, Be heartſome and airy and hope to ſuccced, With a bonny gay widow my laddie.
Strike iron while 'tis hot, if ye'd have it to wauld, For fortune ay favours the active and bauld, But ruins the wooer that's thawieſs and cauld, Unfit for the widow, my laddie.
# Auld Robin Gray (1790)/The Captain of Love

The CAPTAIN of LOVE.
THERE was a rich noble, as lately we hear, He had but one daughter moſt charming & fair, Whom he much admired, yet this beautiful child, By fly Cupid’s arrow in love was beguil’d.
Her father being dead—One day for her eaſe, To viſit her workmen ſhe rode in her chaiſe, A handſome young plowman ſhe there did eſpy, And in raptures upon him ſhe fixed her eye.
This flame in her boſom ſo ſtrongly did glow, To gaze on his beauty to the fields ſhe would go: He whiſtled ſo ſweetly made the vallies to ring, He had cheeks like the roſes that bloom in the Spring.
Then home to her maidens this lady ſhe goes, And reſolved to dreſs in gay regimental cloaths, With broad ſword in hand, ſhe went to the grove, And the plowman was preſs’d by the captain of love.
Unto the young Plowman this lady ſhe ſaid, Come, come, jolly farmer, and join the parade, No longer to toil at the plow and to ſow, But abroad for a ſoldier with me you muſt go.
You’re handſome and proper well fitted to ſhine, In a lac’d hat and feather, and ſcarlet ſo fine, Then with me you muſt go and your captain I’ll be, And a Lady ſhall court you of noble degree.
Within a cloſe room he was ſtraightway confin’d, While ſhe changed her cloathes and then told him her mind, In his arms he embrac’d her, & ſolemnly ſwore, That the Captain of love he would ever adore.
Away then to church ſtraight this young couple went And were joined in wedlock with mutual content, How happy the plowman, now changed was he, From a poor man’s eſtate a rich noble to be.
F I N I S.
# Blythsome bridal, or, The lass wi' the gowden hair (2)

Τ Η Ε
Blythſome Bridal;
OR, THE
Laſs wi' the Gowden Hair.
To which is added,
The F A R E W E L.
A New TOUCH on the TIMES.
This is no Mine Ain HOUSE.
Entered according to Order.
* The Blythsome Bridal
* The Farewel
* A New Touch on the Times
* This is No Mine Ain House
This work was published before January 1, 1930, and is in the public domain worldwide because the author died at least 100 years ago.
Public domainPublic domainfalsefalse
# Blythsome bridal, or, The lass wi' the gowden hair (2)/The Blythsome Bridal

The BLYTHSOME BRIDAL.
FY let us a' to the bridal, for there will be lilting there, For Jocky's to be marry'd to Maggy, the laſs wi' the gouden hair. And there will be lang-kail and pottage, and bannocks of barley-meal; And there will be a good ſa't herring, to reliſh a cog of good ale. Fy let us a' to the bridal, &c.
And there will be Sandy the ſouter, and Will wi' the meikle mou'; And there will be Tam the bluter, with Andrew the tinker, I trow: And there will be bow'd legged Robbie, with thumbleſs Katy's goodman; And there will be blue-cheek'd Dowbie, and Lawrie the laird of the land.
And there will be ſow-libber Patie, and pluky-fac'd Wat i' the mill, Capper-nos'd Patie and Gibbie, that wins in the how of the hill; And there will be Alaſter Sibbie, wha in wi' black Beſſy did mool, With ſnivelling Lilly and Tibby, the laſs that ſtands aft on the ſtool.
​And Madge that was buckled to Steenie, and coſt him grey breeks to his arſe, Wha after was hangit for ſtealing, great mercy it happen'd na warſe; And there will be gleed Geordy Janners, and Kirſt wi' the lily-white leg, Wha gade to the ſouth for manners, and bang’d up her wame in mons-meg.
And there will be Judan Maclawrie, and blinking daft Barbara Macleg, Wi' flae-lugged ſharney-fac'd Lawrie, and ſhangy-mou'd haluket Meg. And there will be happer-ars'd Nancy. and fairy-fac'd Flowrie by name, With Madie, and fat-hippit Griſy, the laſs wi' the gowden wame.
And there will be Girn-again Gibbie, with his glaiket wife Jenny Bell, And miſle-ſhin'd Mungo Macapie, the lad that was ſkipper himſel. There lads and laſſes in pearling, will feaſt in the heart of the ha', On ſybows, and rifarts and carlings, that are baith fodden and raw.
And there will be fadges and brochan, wi' ſouth of good gabbocks of ſkate, Powſowdy and drammock, and crowdy, and caller nowt-feet in a plate, And there will be partans and buckies, and whytens and ſpeldings enow, ​With ſing'd ſheep-heads, and a haggies, and ſcadlips to ſup till ye ſpew.
And there will be lapper'd-milk kebbocks, and ſowens, and farls, and baps, With ſwats and well ſcraped paunches, and brandy in ſtoups and in caps, And there will be meal-cail and cuſtocks, with ſkink to ſup till ye rive, And roaſts to roaſt on a brander, of flukes that were taken alive.
Scrapt haddocks, wilks, dulſe and tangle, and a mill of good ſniſhing to prie; When weary with eating and drinking, we'll riſe up and dance till we die. Then fy let us a' to the bridal, for there will be lilting there, For Jocky's to be married to Maggy, the lafs wi' the gowden hair.
# Blythsome bridal, or, The lass wi' the gowden hair (2)/The Farewel

The FAREWEL.
OH! how ſhall I in language weak, my ardent paſſion tell, Or form my fault'ring tongue to ſpeak, that cruel word, Farewel!
Farewel---but know, tho’ thus we part, my thoughts can never ſtray: Go where I will, my conſtant heart, muſt with my charmer ſtay.
# Blythsome bridal, or, The lass wi' the gowden hair (2)/A New Touch on the Times

A New TOUCH on the TIMES.
To it's own Proper Tune.
GEORGE he is the mildeſt King, that ever ſat on Britain's throne, Behold how wiſely he has acted, to his ſubjects every one.
But we're of a rebellious nature, and our minds are ne'er content, Likewiſe the moſt of our reflection, are on the King and Parliament.
There's quakers, new lights, independents, methodiſts and ſwadlers too, Thoſe minions and finions, are they not a filthy crew.
Thoſe hypocrites that live amongſt us, our religion they deſpiſe, Empty fools without foundation, neither loyal, juſt nor wiſe.
Our churchmen they are little better, if the truth it were all known, They take the King for Britain's head, but part of's laws they will not own.
'Tis brotherly love's gone from amongſt us, neighbours they cannot agree, They ſpend their money on the law, and bring themſelves to poverty.
​’Tis reck’ning, ſharping and deceiving, 'tis hard to find a man that's juſt; Becauſe they ſeldom find the way, to pay the thing they take in truſt.
There's dicemen, ſhowmen, mountainſailors, people pretending to be dumb, Fortune-tellers and quack-doctors, by ſuch vagrants we're undone.
Our merchants buy up meal and corn, beef and butter and our cheeſe, Sends it o'er to foreign countries, for to maintain our enemies.
But now of late we are informed, that their ſhips are pris'ners ta'en, Who are going with proviſion, the French army to maintain.
The French has got our men and money, deny this neighbours if you dare, And for your thanks you plainly ſee, they reward you with open war.
Dutchmen too that treach'rous crew, altho' they were with us in league, They promis'd to aſſiſt the French, for preſervation of their trade.
Before the war, diſtreſs'd and poor, both high & mighty now they're grown, To them we gave a great collection, and had not pow'r to help our own.
​Foreigners we did encourage, ay dear neighbour that is truth, Good Scotch ale and Highland whiſkie, had not reliſh in our mouth.
Brandy and rum we chuſe to drink, and many a coſtly thing beſide, There's nothing that appears amongſt us, but perfect poverty and pride.
Now obſerve the pride of women, how they walk with ſuch an air, With ribbons, rings, ruffles and fans, capuchines and foreheads bare.
Our ſervant-maids are now ſo proud, they do reſemble their ladies near, They have ſo many new made dreſſes, they ſcarce can tell what garb to wear.
Painting and patches for their faces, in the faſhion they muſt be; The pooreſt wife in all the town, each morning ſhe muſt drink her tea.
Our men are grown ſo void of reaſon, often leaves their wedded wife, Chuſing for to keep up a miſs, they're weary'd of a marry'd life.
Women for to leave their huſbands, is not that a double ſin, Enough to bring on us a judgment, and conſume the land we're in,
​O grant us peace and unity, for certainly we may conſider, That now the world is near an end, for each man ſtrives to cheat another.
# Blythsome bridal, or, The lass wi' the gowden hair (2)/This is No Mine Ain House

This is no mine ain HOUSE.
THIS is no mine ain houſe, I ken by the rigging o't; Since with my love I've changed vows, I dinna like the bigging o't; For now that I'm young Robie's bride, And miſtreſs of his fire-ſide, Mine ain houſe I'll like to guide, And pleaſe me wi' the trigging o't.
Then farewel to my father's houſe, I gang where love invites me; The ſtricteſt duty this allows, When love with honour meets me. When Hymen moulds us into ane, My Robie's nearer than my kin, And to refuſe him were a ſin, Sae lang's he kindly treats me.
When I am in mine ain houſe, True love ſhall be at hand ay, To make me ſtill a prudent ſpouſe, And let my man command ay, Avoiding ilka cauſe of ſtrife, The common peſt of human life, That makes ane wearied of his wife, And breaks the kindly band ay.
F I N I S.
# Improbability, or, The batchelor's dislike to a married life/The Improbability; Or, The Batchelor's Dislike to a Married Life

The Improbability; Or, the Batchelor's Diſlike to a Married Life.
AS I was a muſing in a grove, all by myſelf as I ſuppos'd, My mind did oft-times me remove, but by no means could be compos'd; At length by chance a friend I met, which caus'd me long time to tarry, Of me ſhe did intreat to tell her, when I had a mind to marry.
When ſaffron grows on every tree, and ev'ry ſtream flows milk and honey, When ſugar grows in carrot fields, and uſurers refuſe money; And countrymen for judges ſit, and Michaelmas falls in February, When millers do their toll forget, O then my love and I'll be married.
When Shrove-tide falls in Eaſter-week, and Chriſtmas in the month of July, When lawyers plead without a fee, and taylors they deal juſt and truly; When all deceit is quite put down, and truth by all men is preferred, When indigo dyes red and brown, O then my love and I'll be married.
​When men and beaſts the ocean plow, and fiſhes in green fields are feeding, When cockle ſhells in the ſtreets do grow, & ſwarms upon dry banks are breeding, When muſle ſhells for diamond rings, and glaſs to gold may be compared, When gold is made of grey gooſe wings, O then my love and I'll be married.
When women know not how to ſcold, & Dutchmen leave off drinking brandy, When cats do bark, and dogs do mew, and brimſtone's ta'en for ſugar candy. When Whitſuntide it does fall all in the month of January, When Coblers work without an awl, O then my love and I'll be married.
When candleſticks do ſerve for bells, and frying-pans do ſerve for ladles, And in the ſea they dig for wells, and porrage-pots do ſerve for cradles: When all maids prove true to their loves, and a man on his back an ox can carry, And when the mice with the cat do play, O then my love and I'll be married.
# Improbability, or, The batchelor's dislike to a married life/Betsy Taylor's Lamentation

BETSY TAYLOR'S Lamentation.
IN Highgate as I now do tell, One Betſy Taylor there did dwell, ​Who was a beauty of renown, But now her roſes are pull'd down.
With Mr Hooker ſhe did reſide, A young man wiſh'd her for his bride, They fix'd upon the wedding day, But all their joys are fled away.
Her brother was a wicked blade, This poor young girl he did perſuade, To rob her maſter, wicked deed! Which makes her tender heart to bleed.
Two hundred pounds in goods they ſtole, Now Chriſt have mercy on her ſoul; For they are ta'en and caſt to die, So in the dreadful cells they lie.
When at the bar this fair maid ſtood, The tears ran down juſt like a flood, The roſes from each cheek were fled, She droop'd, with heart as cold as lead.
When to the bar poor ſoul was brought, For mercy on her knees ſhe fought, The Judge unto her then did cry, There is no help, for you muſt die.
When from the bar they did her take, With grief her heart was like to break, Her ſweetheart he was in the court, His deareſt girl for to ſupport.
When back to priſon they do go, And they muſt part, O fatal woe, ​The ſcene of grief no tongue can tell, When ſhe was led unto the cell.
With aching heart ſhe now does lie, Until the day that ſhe muſt die, When dreſt in white from top to toe, To meet her fate this maid will go.
So maidens now take warning all, Reflect upon her wretched fall, And when you hear the dead bell tole, Fall on your knees, pray for her ſoul.
O! may her death atonement make, Chriſt her precious ſoul then take, Arm her to meet the fatal blow, When ſhe doth ſink to ſhades below.
# Improbability, or, The batchelor's dislike to a married life/Twelve Months are Past

TWELVE MONTHS are PAST.
TWelve months are paſt, ſince on this ſtrand, in ſad diſtreſs we parted, And as the boat forſook the land, the oar my hand deſerted.
My eyes on yours were fondly bent, and ſeem'd their tears to borrow, And ſure from you a look was ſent, that well repaid the ſorrow.
To bear me quickly from the ſhore, the crew, our grief ſurveying, With lengthen'd ſtroke ſtill kept the oar, in well tim'd meaſure playing.
​Till diſtant and approaching night, your lovely image ſhaded, Yet ever in ideal ſight, your beauty oft unfaded.
Oft when the midnight watch I've kept, when ſeas were round us ſwelling, I've fear'd alone the gale that ſwept, too rudely o'er your dwelling.
But now my love, no more your breaſt, ſhall beat with ſad emotion, I'll ſtrive to make each moment bleſt, nor tempt again the ocean.
# Improbability, or, The batchelor's dislike to a married life/Ye Gallant Souls

YE GALLANT SOULS.
To it's own Proper Tune.
YE gallant ſouls, that beat ſo high, with England's glory in each vein, From his example learn to die, whoſe honour never knew one ſtain.
At break of day two ſail appear'd, and on the larboard quarter ſtood, For action ſtraight the decks were clear'd, which ſoon alas! were dy'd with blood.
My friend maintain'd th' unequal fight, till bringing all his guns to bear, With red-hot balls their thunder freight, and up one Frenchman blew in air.
​The other ſtruck her colours now, but, oh! too late his life to ſave, For, e'er the hoſtile flag was low, a ſhot had mark'd him for the grave.