Larry. Tut, man, our captain will lead us through all dangers.
Robin. Will he? an' he catch me following him through these same dangers —
Larry. Och, you spalpeen! I mean he'll lead us out of peril.
Robin. Thank him for nothing; for I've predetermined, look you, not to be led into peril. Oh, master Larry, what a plague had I to do to leave my snug cot and my brown lass, to follow master Rolfe to this devil of a country, where there's never a girl nor a house!
Larry. Out, you driveller! didn't I leave as neat a black-ey'd girl, and as pretty a prolific potato-patch all in tears —
Robin. Your potato-patch in tears! that's a bull, master Larry —
Larry. You're a calf, master Robin. Wasn't it raining? Och, I shall never forget it; the thunder rolling, and her tongue a-going, and her tears and the rain; och, bother, but it was a dismal morning!
Song – Larry
I
Och! dismal and dark was the day, to be sure,
When Larry took leave of sweet Katy Maclure;
And clouds dark as pitch hung just like a black lace
O'er the sweet face of Heav'n and my Katy's sweet face.
Then, while the wind blow'd, and she sigh'd might and main,
Drops from the black skies
Fell – and from her black eyes;
Och! how I was soak'd with her tears – and the rain.
[ Speaks. ] And then she gave me this beautiful keep-sake [ Shows a pair of scissors. ], which if ever I part with, may a tailor clip me in two with his big shears. Och! when Katy took you in hand, how nicely did you snip and snap my bushy, carroty locks; and now you're cutting the hairs of my heart to pieces, you tieves you —
[ Sings. ] Och! Hubbaboo – Gramachree – Hone!
II
When I went in the garden, each bush seem'd to sigh
Because I was going – and nod me good-bye;
Each stem hung its head, drooping bent like a bow,
With the weight of the water – or else of its woe;
And while sorrow, or wind, laid some flat on the ground,
Drops of rain, or of grief,
Fell from every leaf,
Till I thought in a big show'r of tears I was drown'd.
[ Speaks. ] And then each bush and leaf seem'd to sigh, and say, "don't forget us, Larry." I won't, said I. – "But arrah, take something for remembrance," said they; and then I dug up this neat jewel [ Shows a potato.
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The/Indian Princess;/or,/La Belle Sauvage./An Operatic Melo-Drame./In Three Acts./Performed at the Theatres Philadelphia and/Baltimore./By J. N. Barker./ First Acted April 6, 1808./Philadelphia,/Printed by T. & G. Palmer,/For G. E. Blake, No. 1, South Third-Street./1808./
The music is now published and sold by Mr. G. E. Blake, No. 1, South Third-street, Philadelphia.