Sometimes I Am A Tapster New Honest Shepher'd Since You're Poor Blowzabella My Dancing Doxie As Oyster Nan Stood By Her Tub There Was A Lass Of Islington Poor Celia Once Was Very Fair Oh Fie! What Mean I Foolish Maid What Life Can Compare With The Jolly Town Wakes I Hate A Fop That At His Glass Would Ye Have A Young Virgin Of Fifteen Years Weep All Ye Nymphs, Your Floods Unbind A Soldiers And A Sailor, A Tinker And A Tailor Then Jockey Wou'd A Wooing Away With My Strings Of Small Wire I Come How Vile Are The Sordid Intrigues Of The Town Like A Ring Without A Finger Through The Cold Shady Woods When For Air I Take My Mare Young Collin, A Cleaving Of A Beam One Sunday At St James's Prayers There Was An Old Woman Liv'd Under A Hill Oh! My Panting Panting Heart Now Listen A While And I Will Tell Oh Mother, Roger With His Kisses Do Not Rumple My Top-Knot Come Jug, My Honey, Let's To Bed