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CHORUS.
Which makes me sing hushy-ba, something to me,
which makes me cry hushy-ba, baby ly still,
Tho' he's no your daddie, yet I am your minnie,
it's well known I ne'er got too much of my will.
Then she comes in with a rap on the table,
crying, you old rogue, is the tea kettle on!
Get up you old devil and rock while you're able,
or else if you don't, you’ll get skelping your fill.
CHORUS.
Which makes me cry hushy-ba, nothing for me,
which makes me sing hushy-ba, baby lie still, etc.
THE AFFECTIONATE SOLDIER.
'TWAS on the ev'ning of a winter day,
when safe returning from a long campaign,
Allen o'ertoil'd and weary with the way,
came home to see his Sally once again.
His batter'd arms he carelessly threw down,
and view'd his Sally with enraptur'd eyes;
But she receiv'd him with a modest frown,
she knew not Allen in his rough disguise.
His hair was knotted, and his beard unshorn,
his tatter'd 'coutraments about him hung,
A tear of pleasure did his cheeks adorn,
and blessings in torrents from his tongue.
Am I so alter'd with this cruel trade,
