# Jeany Diver

JEANY DIVER.
TO WHICH ARE ADDED,
TOM BROUN.
CHARMING SALLY.
The NEW WAY OF TALIHO.
KATHARINE OGIE.
GLASGOW,
Printed by J. & M. ROBERTSON,
Saltmarket, 1799.
JEANY DIVER.
JEANY Diver is my name, From Dublin town I lately came, It was my wit and nimble hand, That caus'd me for to leave Ireland. O rare Jeany Diver, O rare Jeany O.
To Old England I took my way, That pleaſant country to ſurvey, No Lady more eſteem'd than I, A Batchelor I'll live and die. O rare, &c.
Their taverns then I made to ſhine, With porter, punch, cyder and wine, Their Engliſh gold was my delight, In rural pleaſures to spend the night. O, &c.
The firſt man that I did meet, Was a Captain of the fleet, Who vow'd he lov'd me as his ſoul, But ſoon I bit him of his gold. O rare, &c.
As I walked up the ſtreet, With a poor taylor I did meet, I ſearch'd his pockets and I found, His ſciſſers, thimble, and half a crown. &c.
His louſy trifle I did diſdain, I gave him back his goods again, I'll ne'er ſpunge a taylor if I can, I'll rather ten times ſpunge a man. O, &c. ​The next was a parſon all in black, He threw his arms about my neck, But ſoon I robb'd him of his ſtore, Becauſe he knew how to preach for more. &c.
A lawyer as he paſſed by, On me he fix'd a wanton eye, As he did me then embrace, I pick'd his pocket before his face. O, &c.
I puſh'd my fortune England round, Until I came to London town, To pick their pockets I thought no crime, Of twenty guineas at a time. O rare, &c.
You inferior huſſies in this town, Will kiſs for a teſter or a crown, I touch with none but quality, Their gold I make them bring to me. &c.
As I went forth to take the air, I met the Biſhop and Lord Mayor, Although they were both married men, They kindly took me by the hand. O, &c.
Next to their will I did comply, All night in bed with them to ly, But long before the break of day, I brought his gold and watch away. O, &c.
I thought his money to conceal, Beſides his watch' and golden ſeal; But it was found out at the laſt, When I in Newgate then was caſt. O. &c. ​O if I had my liberty, And were at home in my own country, Old England ne’er ſhould ſee me more, If I could reach the Iriſh ſhore. O rare, &c.
O then I was condemn’d to die. For committing of this robbery. Which does my heart and conſcience ſting, For I on Tyburn now muſt hing. O poor Jeany Diver, O poor Jeany O.
TOM BROUN.
THE King ſhall take the Queen, and the Queen ſhall take the Jack, And we ſhall all be merry boys, when we get drunk with ſack. Chor. Here’s to you Tom Broun, to you my jolly lad, For you and I ſhall drink a crown, when money can be had. Here’s to you Tom Broun, &c.
The Jack ſhall take the Ten, and the Ten ſhall take the Nine, And we ſhall all be merry boys, when we get drunk with wine. &c.
The Nine ſhall take the Eight, and the Eight ſhall take the Seven, And we will have good oyſters boys, when we get to Newhaven. Here’s, &c. ​The Seven ſhall take the Six, and the Six ſhall take the Five, And we ſhall all be merry boys, as now we're all alive. Here's &c.
The five ſhall take the Four, and the Four ſhall take the Three, And we ſhall all be merry boys, as now we all agree. Here's to you, &c.
The Three ſhall take the two, and the Two ſhall take the One, And we ſhall all be merry boys, as now our ſong is done. Here's to you Tom Broun, &c.
CHARMING SALLY.
CAN the weak taper's feeble rays, Or lamp's tranſmit the ſun's bright blaze, Oh! no—Then ſay, how Shall I In words, be able to expreſs My love it burns to ſuch exceſs? I almoſt die for Sally.
When late I wandered o'er the plain, From nymph to nymph I ſtrove in vain, My wild deſires to rally, But now they're of themſelves come home, And ſtrange! no longer ſeek to roam, They center all in Sally.
​Yet the unkind one damps my joy, And cries, I court but to deſtroy, Can love with ruin tally, By thoſe dear lips, thoſe eyes I ſwear, I could all deaths, all torments bear, Rather than injure Sally.
Come then, Oh! come, thou ſweeteſt far, Than jeſſamine or roſes are; Or lilies of the valley, O follow love and quiet your fear. I'll guide you to theſe arms my dear, And make you bleſt in Sally.
The NEW WAY of TALIHO.
With hounds and horn each roſy morn, let bucks a hunting go, While all my fancy dwells with Nancy, while ſhe ſings taliho. While ſhe ſings taliho, ho, ho, &c.
O ſweet's my life were ſhe my wife, in ſtation high or low, Midſt wars alarms, and muſic's charms, when ſhe ſings taliho. When ſhe, &c.
Altho' the warren be ne'er ſo barren, it fruitful with her will grow, It makes violets ſpring and virtue bring, when ſhe ſings taliho. When ſhe, &c. ​The fox flies over the plain, ſo ſwift the hunters after him go, No more they run, the chace is done, when ſhe ſings taliho. When ſhe, etc.
The muſic of her voice I'm ſure, it will chear poor reynard's foe, Maid's have you ſeen my girl's a queen, when ſhe ſings taliho. When ſhe, etc.
KATHARINE OGIE.
AS walking forth to view the plain, upon a morning early, While May's ſweet ſcent did chear my brain, from flow'rs which grow ſo rarely: I chanc'd to meet a pretty maid, ſhe ſhin'd though it was fogie; I aſk'd her name: Sweet Sir, ſhe ſaid, my name is Katharine Ogie.
I ſtood a while and did admire, to ſee a nymph ſo ſtately, So briſk an air there did appear in a country maid ſo neatly: Such natural ſweetneſs ſhe diſplay'd, like a lilie in a bogie; Diana' ſelf was ne'er array'd like this ſame Katharine Ogie.
Thou flow'r of females, beauty's queen, who ſees thee, ſure muſt prize thee; Though thou art dreſt in robes but mean, yet theſe cannot diſguiſe thee; ​Thy handſome air, and graceful look, far excels any clowniſh rogie: Thou'rt match for laird, or lord, or duke, my charming Katharine Ogie
O were I but ſome ſhepherd-ſwain! to feed my flock beſide thee, At boughting-time to leave the plain, in milking to abide thee; I'd think myſelf a happier man. with Kate, my club, and dogie, Than he that hugs his thouſands ten, had I but Katharine Ogie.
Then I'd deſpiſe the imperial throne, and ſtateſmens' dang'rous ſtations: I'd be no king, I'd wear no crown, I'd ſmile at conquering nations: Might I careſs and ſtill poſſeſs this laſs of whom I'm vogie; For theſe are toys and ſtill look leſs, compar'd with Katharine Ogie.
But I fear the gods have not decreed for me ſo fine a creature. Whoſe beauty rare makes her exceed all other works in nature, Clouds of deſpair ſurround my love, that are both dark and fogie: Pity my caſe, ye powers above, elſe I die for Katharine Ogie.
Printed by J. & M. Robertſon, Saltmarket, 1799
This work was published before January 1, 1929, and is in the public domain worldwide because the author died at least 100 years ago.
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