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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– LarryI

      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.]; you're a little withered to be sure, but if ever I forget your respectable family, or your delightful dwelling place – may I never again see any of your beautiful brothers and plump sisters! – Och! my darling, if you had come hot from the hand of Katy, how my mouth would have watered at ye; now, you divil, you bring the water into my eyes.

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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./

1

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./

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The music is now published and sold by Mr. G. E. Blake, No. 1, South Third-street, Philadelphia.