O Nanny, can’st thou love so true,
  Through perils keen with me go;
Or when thy swain mishap shall rue,
  To share with him the pang of woe? 
Say, should disease or pain befall,
  Wilt thou assume the nurse’s care,
Nor wistful those gay scenes recall,
  Where thou wert fairest of the fair?

And when at last thy love shall die,
  Wilt thou receive his parting breath,
Wilt thou repress each struggling sigh,
  And cheer with smiles the bed of death? 
And wilt thou o’er his breathless clay
  Strew flowers, and drop the tender tear,
Nor then regret those scenes so gay,
  Where thou wert fairest of the fair?

        Thomas Percy D.D.

D’YE KEN JOHN PEEL?

D’ye ken John Peel with his coat so gay? 
D’ye ken John Peel at the break of the day? 
D’ye ken John Peel when he’s far, far away,
With his hounds and his horn in the morning? 
  CHORUS.—­D’ye ken, etc.

’Twas the sound of his horn brought me from my bed,
And the cry of his hounds has me ofttimes led;
For Peel’s view holloa would ’waken the dead,
Or a fox from his lair in the morning. 
  CHORUS.—­D’ye ken, etc.

D’ye ken that hound whose voice is death? 
D’ye ken her sons of peerless faith? 
D’ye ken that a fox with his last breath
Cursed them all as he died in the morning! 
  CHORUS.—­D’ye ken, etc.

Yes, I ken John Peel and auld Ruby too,
Ranter and Royal and Bellman so true;
From the drag to the chase,
From the chase to the view,
From the view to the death in the morning. 
  CHORUS.—­D’ye ken, etc.

And I’ve follow’d John Peel both often and far. 
O’er the rasper-fence, the gate, and the bar,
From Low Denton side up to Scratchmere Scar,
When we vied for the brush in the morning. 
  CHORUS.—­D’ye ken, etc.

Then here’s to John Peel with my heart and soul. 
Come fill, fill to him a brimming bowl: 
For we’ll follow John Peel thro’ fair or thro’ foul,
While we’re wak’d by his horn in the morning. 
  CHORUS.—­D’ye ken, etc.

        John Woodstock Graves.