Transcription Notes:

This Internet file is not an exact copy of the book. Certain liberties have been taken. It is presented here as a collection of poetry, rather than as songs to be sung. Some of the conventions helpful for singing, such as breaking words into syllables and heavy use of apostrophes for elided 'e's and 'v's, were felt unnecessary and distracting, so many of the 'v's and practically all of the vowels that were apostrophized out have been replaced. While choruses are noted, repeating line have otherwise been left out. A very few spellings have been modernized, and typographic errors corrected.

The first edition of this book came out in 1825 in 3 volumes, probably an expansion of the compiler's earlier 2 volume collection, FAIRBURN'S EVERLASTING SONGSTER: Being an extensive collection of One Thousand Naval, Love, Comic, Hunting, Bacchanalian, Sentimental, Scotch and Irish Songs (c.1819). This text is extracted from the Google Books file of Vol.1 only, 1834 edition.* The earlier book, and the other two volumes of this set, aren't (as of October 2008) available online.

This was a popular parlor songbook, not just a Masonic one, so it contained a wide variety of songs and poems. The "Museum of Mirth" part of the title refers to the book containing not only songs, but often the entire vaudeville routines they were part of. The first entry in this extract, "The Nightingale Club," is an example of that. This file is an extract of Masonic songs, and also of songs of other clubs of the day.

If a more complete rendition is required, a photocopy of the book is available online or in .pdf format at Google Books: Vol.1, id=VWQLAAAAYAAJ. In the pdf version, the pages are roman numeral+10, arabic numeral+26.

There is some artwork in the book, and a couple relevant items have been included herein. There were no music scores. The songs appeared to have been dis-arranged so as to purposely scatter all categories throughout the entire book. There was a Table of Contents, arranged by subject and initial letter of first line within each subject area, and no additional indexes. We have included all songs listed under the "Masonic" heading, and also combed the collection for songs of other social clubs as well. From this MPS collection, a new Table of Contents of titles was constructed, and MPS alphabetical indexes have been compiled at the end of this file.


* (Google also has an unnumbered 1835 edition which is a pirated abridgement of the entire set, with a section of American patriotic songs added. The three volumes are reported to have 460 pages each, but the 1835 copy ran only 380 pages, and contained no Masonic or club songs. The unnumbered volume is at Google Books, id=fA4WAAAAYAAJ.)


Universal Songster;


Museum of Mirth:





The English Language:





Embellished with a humourous characteristic Frontispiece, and Twenty-nine Wood-cuts, designed by

VOL. 1.





On consulting the most remote history, not only of European nations but those of the wildest regions, under the frigid and the torrid zones, we shall uniformly find, that the vocal chant has at all periods and every where predominated. Religious ceremonies hare been accompanied by solemn strains of melody, — the songs of war and of victory are proverbial, — and the funereal dirge is sung as the final tribute of devotional love and respect for the manes of a departed spirit. Such we conceive to have been the origin of all Song, which, in remote ages, does not appear to have extended beyond the celebration of such solemn rites. In process of time the epithalamium was performed at nuptial ceremonies, from whence, in all probability, originated the sprightlier amatory and Bacchanalian strains.

As early as the reign of the heroic Alfred, history affords incontestible proof that the harp was the favoured instrument among the Britons, and in various manuscript Saxon records, still preserved, the rude illuminations introduced as embellishments, represent persons performing on that and other minor instruments. With respect to the stile of composition used during those dark ages, nothing for a certainty has been handed down; and it is only from the period of the Norman conquest that we are enabled to trace any thing of that nature that can be relied upon. William the Conqueror was certainly accompanied in his expedition by many Trouverres, Chanterres, Jongleurs, Troubadours, or Minstrels, originally of Provence, who played a species of wild music, accompanied by extempore verse, in the stile of the Italian Improvvisatori. In Percy's Relics of Ancient English Poetry is a specimen of the versification of Richard Cœur de Lion; and Blondiaux, or Blondel, the Provenηal bard, who was the intimate and associate of that belligerent monarch, composed a legendary air still preserved, and introduced in the interesting theatrical after-piece on the subject of that prince, which is no mediocre proof of the feeling and pathos that characterized the productions of the period in question. The national ballad of Chevy Chase is well known to every lover of harmony, and a more beautiful strain, accompanied by many touches of pure pathetic versification, is not to be found in the vocal annals of any country.

We have deemed it requisite to offer the foregoing cursory remarks on the origin of English Song, in order to prove that all the subsequent efforts at composition are indebted for their existence to vocal harmony.

In regard to the present publication, which is intended to chronicle songs from the earliest period to the present day, if we may be permitted to judge from the pulse of public approbation, the Universal Songster has incontestibly established its reputation; which derives no small portion of popularity from the combined humourous illustrations of Messrs. George and Robert Cruikshank, displayed in the pictorial embellishments that accompany our numbers, which sketches are faithfully and exquisitely engraved by Mr. J. R. Marshall.

In the progress of this periodical work the same indefatigable industry will uniformly be exemplified, which we feel no small degree of pride in stating has insured us, independent of the labours of those now no more, the assistance of the best composers of songs at present living. To those we beg to ofter our sincere acknowledgements, without particularizing names, which we should be happy to insert, were it not from a fear of giving offence to many poetical geniuses less known, who might conceive themselves entitled to similar notice.

With every sentiment of respect,

We beg to subscribe ourselves,

The devoted servants of the Public,



Nota Bene; This is not the original ToC, which was an index of first lines categorized by subject. This is a sequential list of the songs in this MPS computer file. Alphabetized title, first-line, and author indexes are at the end of this file.

There were several reasons for including Oddfellows and other songs. One is shared heritage; even though we were/are competitors, we all still stand apart from the surrounding culture in much the same ways. Adaptability is another, since many songs written for one group can be, and have been, used by others with only slight modifications. Third is that sometimes they give us an enlightening look at how we are seen by others. And some are just good songs encouraging wise fraternal principles.

The Anacreonic Society, Sons of Harmony, and others were what today we'd probably call karaoke clubs, and parodying them gave vaudeville players a good excuse to sing medleys of comic songs. Several of these medley routines have been included, as well as real songs from the Harmony clubs.

The Nightingale-Club1medley
A Free And An Accepted Mason6Masonry†
Let Masonry From Pole To Pole38Masonry†
Free-Mason's Song63Masonry†
Hail! Masonry Divine77Masonry†
My Friend Is The Man I Would Copy Through Life92general
The Red Cross Knight101Templars
I Judge Of A Friend By The Shake Of His Hand103general
Brethren Freemasons, Let's Mark The Great Name109Masonry†
The Freemason's Daughter116Masonry†
Masonic Admonition122Masonry†
A Bumper Of Sparkling Wine124general
Success And Health To Free-Masons132Masonry†
The Happy Mason142Masonry†
Hail, Divine Urania, Hail!151Masonry†
Hail! Masonry, Thou Sacred Art!156Masonry†
The Odd-Fellow's Whim163medley
The Oddities170Oddfellows
Heroes And Kings, Revere The Mason's Name175Masonry†
The Harmonic Society176Harmony
'Tis Masonry Unites Mankind183Masonry†
Masons Will Not Live The Dupes Of Gold192Masonry†
Masonic Farewell194Masonry
Brotherly Love; or, The Sentiments Of Odd Fellows197Oddfellows
To Anacreon, In Heaven213Harmony
Arise! And Blow The Trumpet, Fame, To Masonry213Masonry†
The Odd Fellows' Model215Oddfellows
The Jovial Sons Of Jove224Harmony
Members Of Our Society224Harmony
Matchless Are Freemasons' Deeds228Masonry†
Heart And Hand In Support Of The Chair243Oddfellows
Freemasons' Friendship And Love248Masonry†
Confess The Mason's Art Divine254Masonry†
The Mason's Allegory258Masonry†
The Hearty Old Odd Fellow266Oddfellows
Our Friends Far, Far Awa'268general
All Here Are Masons And Friends276general†
The Odds More Ways Than One278Oddfellows
In Our Lodge We Know No Care283Masonry†
The King, The Craft, And Old England For Ever292Masonry†
May Odd Fellows Flourish Forever294Oddfellows
Success To The Whistle And Wig310medley
Hail, Mysterious — Glorious Masonry!312Masonry†
All Odd Fellows In Turn313Oddfellows
Odd Fellows, Drink! And Kiss The Lasses330Oddfellows
Each Brother Practise Charity, Concord, And Love331Masonry†
The Most Glorious Of Temples Gives Name To Freemasons341Masonry†
Be Wise While Ye May, To The Lodge Come Away343Harmonics†
The Heart That Can Feel For Distress348general
The Free And Easy350medley
Fill High To Him That's Far Away!360general
Brother Mason Free, Here's To Thee361Masonry†
Joy And Health Be The Lot Of Each Worthy Odd Fellow363Oddfellows
A Mason's Life Is The Life For Me373Masonry†
The Fruit Of Benevolence376Oddfellows
The Liquor Of Life383Harmonics
Like Masons Our Work We'll Pursue392Masonry†
The Glories Of Masonry405Masonry†
Independent Odd-Fellows Will Still Bear The Sway409Oddfellows
Hail, Masonry, Thou Craft Divine423Masonry†
The Sentimental Odd-Fellow429Oddfellows
The Drift Of Masonry442Masonry
Alphabetical Index of Titles
Alphabetical Index of First Lines
Alphabetical Index of Authors
† these were included in the Masonic category of the original index.
page 1


Air — Shadrack, the orangeman.

The Nightingale-Club in a village was held,
At the sign of the Cabbage and Shears,
Where the singers, no doubt, would have greatly excelled,
But for want of taste, voice, and ears;
Still between every toast, with his gills mighty red,
Mr. President thus with great eloquence said —

SPOKEN.] Gentlemen of the Nightingale-Club, you all know the rules and regulations of this society; and if any gentleman present is not aware of them, if he will look over the fire-place he will find them chalked up: That every gentleman must sing a volunteer song, whether he can or no, or drink a pint of salt and water; therefore, to make a beginning of this evening's harmony, I shall call upon Mr. Snuffle.
— 'Sir, I have an extreme bad cold, but with your permission I'll try to do my best.'
— 'Sir, that's all we wish, for, if you do your best, the best can do no more.'
— 'Permit me to blow my nose first, and I'll begin directly.'
— (Singing, muffling.)

A master I have, and I am his man,
Galloping dreary dall,
And he'll get a wife as fast as he can,
With his haily gaily gall-bo-rayly,
Higelty, pigelty, gigelty, nigelty,
Galloping dreary dall.

Bravo! bravo! very well sung,
Jolly companions every one.
Thus the Nightingale-Club nightly kept up their clamour,
And were nightly knocked down with the President's hammer.

When Snuffle had finished, a man of excise,
Whose squint was prodigiously fine,
Sung, 'Drink to me only with thine eyes,
And I will pledge with mine.'
After which Mr.Tug, who draws teeth for all parties,
Roared a sea-song, whose burthen was 'Pull away, my hearties, ho.
Pull away, pull away, my hearties,
Pull — pull away, pull away, my hearties.'

SPOKEN.] 'Mr. Drinkall, we shall be happy to hear your song, sir.'
(Drunk,) ' 'Pon my soul, Mr. President, I cannot sing.'
— 'Waiter, bring Mr. Drinkall a glass of salt and water.'
— 'No, no, Mr. President, sooner than swallow that dose, I'll try one.'
— Bravo, silence —

A lass is good, and a glass is good,
And a pipe to smoke in cold weather,
The world it is good, and the people are good,
And we're all good fellows together.
A song is a good thing when it's very well sung,
But some people they always stick in it.

SPOKEN,] ' 'Pon my honour, Mr. President, I cannot sing any more.'

Bravo! bravo! very well sung,
Jolly companions every one.
Thus the Nightingale-Club nightly kept up their clamour,
And were nightly knocked down with the President's hammer.

Mr. Drybones sung next, who was turned of three score,
And melodiously warbled away—
'She's sweet fifteen, I'm one year more,
And yet we are too young, they say.'
Then a little Jew grocer, who wore a bob wig,
Struck up 'Johnny Pringle had von very leetel pig
Not very leetel, nor very pig,
But ven alive, him live in clover,
But now him dead, and dat's all over.'

SPOKEN,] 'Mr. President, I think it's time we had a toast or a sentiment.'
— 'Certainly, whose turn is it to give one?'
— 'Mr. Mangle, the surgeon.'
— 'Sir, I'll give you — Success to the Royal Union.'
— 'And now, Mr. Dismal, we'll thank you for a song.'
— 'Sir, I shall give you something sprightly.'

'Merry are the bells, and merry do they ring,
Merry is myself, and merry will I sing.'

Bravo! bravo! very well sung,
Jolly companions every one.
Thus the Nightingale-Club nightly kept up their clamour,
And were nightly knocked down with the President's hammer.

Billy Piper, some members called Breach of the Peace,
Because all his notes were so shrill,
Shrieked out like the wheel of a cart that wants grease,
'Deeper and deeper still.'
Mr. Max, who drinks gin, wished to coo like a dove,
Murmur'd sweetly, 'Oh! listen to the voice of love,
Which calls my Daphne to the grove.'

SPOKEN.] Mr. Double-lungs, the butcher, was next called on, who had a kind of a duetto voice, something like a penny trumpet and a kettle-drum.
— 'Mr. Double-lungs, we wish to hear your song.'
— 'Sir, I'll sing with all my heart, liver, and lights; I'll sing you the echo song out of Comus, with my own accompaniments, for when a man accompanies himself, he's sure to do it in the right key.

'Sweet echo, sweet echo.'

Bravo! bravo! very well sung,
Jolly companions every one.
Thus the Nightingale-Club nightly kept up their clamour,
And were nightly knocked down with the President's hammer.


Mr. Sneak had a wife who was peevish, they say,
And she often would get out of bed,
And down to the Cabbage and Shears she would stray,
When Sneak by the nose home was led.
While the President sat in his seat in despair,
And sometimes his wife would pull him from the chair.

SPOKEN.] Gentlemen, for fear my wife should come, let's have a song,
— aye, there's Mr. Shivertoe, he will favour us.

' 'Mid pleasure and solitude, wherever we roam,
Let us go where we will, there is no place like home.'

— 'No, you blackguard,' says his wife, 'it appears there is no place like home to you, for your home seems to be the public-house.'
— 'Gentlemen.' says Mr. Flash, 'why is Mr. Shivertoe like corn in a highway?'
— 'Because he is seedy.' says the tailor.
— 'No, it is not, now, it is because he is sure to be henpecked.'
— 'That's a good joke,' says Mr. Bantem, 'bring me a glass of brandy and water and put it down to the other ten I've had.'
— 'That's no joke.' says the landlord.
— 'It's not a dry joke, at all events,' says Drinkall.
— 'I want some spirit,' says the actor.
— 'So you may, but what do you owe me?'
— (Sings) 'Sweet gratitude! sweet gratitude!'
— 'O damn your gratitude, twelve pence in copper is worth twelve pounds of gratitude.'
— 'But don't I patronize your house, sir?'
— 'Haven't I given you more than ever you can return to me?'
— 'Yes, you have given me the liver-complaint through drinking your raw spirits. I've an inflammation on the lungs through swallowing your spirits of wine, and the dropsy through drinking your mixed liquors; I've been drinking for the last two years to try if you had a drop of anything good in the house. I can't quench my thirst; I'm dry, the company are dry, their songs are dry, their jokes are dry, and my pockets are dry.'
— 'That's all my eye,' says the Watchman, 'and, since you ate all up so late, I must take you down to the watch-house.'
— Then the row began, Mr. Tug knocked out the Charley's teeth, Drybones smothered him in gin and water, Billy Piper shoved the tobacco-box down his throat, Double-lungs gave him a bellygofuster, Snuffle broke his nose, Max bunged up both his eyes, and the whole affair ended with

Bravo! bravo! very well sung,
Jolly companions every one.
Thus the Nightingale-Club nightly kept up their clamour,
And were nightly knocked down with the President's hammer.



Come let us prepare,
We brothers that are
Assembled on merry occasion;
Let's drink, laugh and sing,
Our wine has a spring,
Here's a health to an accepted mason.

The world is in pain,
Our secret to gain,
And still let them wonder and gaze on,
They ne'er can divine,
The word or the sign
Of a free and an accepted mason.

'Tis this and 'tis that,
They cannot tell what,
Why so many great men of the nation
Should aprons put on,
To make themselves one
With a free and an accepted mason.

Great kings, dukes, and lords,
Have laid by their swords,
Our mysteries to put a good grace on,
And ne'er been ashamed,
To hear themselves named
With a free and an accepted mason.

Still firm in our trust
In friendship we're just,
Our actions we guide by our reason,
By observing this rule,
The passions move cool
Of a free and an accepted mason.

All idle debate
About church or the state,
The springs of impiety and treason,
These raisers of strife
Ne'er ruffle the life
Of a free and an accepted mason.

Antiquity's pride
We have on our side,
Which adds high renown to our station,
There's nought but what's good
To be understood
By a free and an accepted mason.

The clergy embrace,
And all Aaron's race,
Our square actions their knowledge to place on;
And in each degree
They'll honoured be
With a free and an accepted mason.

We're true and sincere,
In our love to the fair,
Who will trust us on every occasion;
No mortal can more
The ladies adore
Than a free and an accepted mason.

Then join hand in hand,
By each other firm stand;
Let's be merry and put a good face on.
What mortal can boast
So noble a toast
As a free and an accepted mason.



Let Masonry from pole to pole,
Her sacred laws expand,
Far as the mighty waters roll,
To wash remotest land!
That virtue has not left mankind,
Her social maxims prove,
For stamped upon the Mason's mind,
Are unity and love.

Ascending to her native sky,
Let Masonry increase;
A glorious pillar raised on high,
integrity its base.
Peace adds to olive boughs entwined,
An emblematic dove,
As stamped upon the Mason's mind
Are unity and love.



Air — By Jove, I'll be free.
(B. Clarke.)

To the science that virtue and art do maintain,
Let the muse pay her tribute in soft gliding strain;
Those mystic perfections so fond to display,
As far as allowed to poetical lay;
Each profession and class of mankind must agree,
That Masons alone are the men who are free,

The Men who are free, &c.

Their origin they with great honour can trace,
From the sons of religion and singular grace;
Great Hiram and Solomon, virtue to prove,
Made this the grand secret of friendship and love;
Each profession and class of mankind must agree,
That masons, of all men, are certainly free.

The smart and the beau, the coquet and the prude,
The dull and the comic, the heavy and rude,
In vain may inquire, then fret, and despise
An art that's still secret 'gainst all they devise;
Each profession and class of mankind must agree
That Masons, though secret, are loyal and free.

Commit it to thousands of different mind,
And this golden precept you'll certainly find,
Nor interest, nor terror can make them reveal,
Without just admittance, what they should conceal;
Each profession and class of mankind must agree
That Masons alone are both secret and free,

Fair virtue and friendship, religion and love,
The motive of this noble science still prove;
'Tis the lock and the key of the most godly rules,
And not to be trusted to knaves or to fools.
Each profession and class of mankind must agree
That ancient free-masons are steady and free.

The Israelites distinguished their friends from their foes
By signs and by characters; then say why should those,
Of vice and unbelief, be permitted to pry
Into secrets that masons alone should descry?
Each profession and class of mankind must agree
That Masons of all men are secret and free,

The dunce he imagines that science and art
Depend on some compact or magical part!
Thus men are so stupid, to think that the cause
Of our constitution's against divine laws:
Each profession and class of mankind must agree,
That Masons are jovial, religious, and free,

Push about the brisk bowl, let it circling pass;
Let each chosen brother lay hold of his glass,
And drink to the heart that will always conceal,
And the tongue that our secrets will never reveal:
Each profession and class of mankind must agree
That the sons of old Hiram are certainly free.



Air — God save the King.

Hail! Masonry divine,
Glory of Ages shine,
Long mayest thou hold;
Where'er thy lodges stand,
May they have great command,
And always grace the land,
Thou Art divine.

Great fabrics still arise,
And touch the azure skies,
Great are thy schemes;
Thy noble orders are
Matchless beyond compare,
No art with thee can share,
Thou Art divine.

Hiram, the architect,
Did all the craft direct,
How they should build;
Solomon, great Israel's king,
Did mighty blessings bring,
And left us room to sing
Hail! royal Art.



(M. P. Andrews.)

My friend is the man I would copy through life,
He harbours no envy, he causes no strife,
No murmurs escape him, though fortune bears hard,
Content is his portion and peace his reward.
Still happy in his station,
He minds his occupation,
Nor heeds the snares,
Nor knows the cares
Which vice and folly bring,
Daily working wearily,
And nightly singing cheerily,
Dear to him his wife, his home, his country, and king.

His heart is enlarged, though his income is scant,
He lessens his little for others that want;
Though his dear children's claims on his industry press,
He has something to spare for the child of distress.
He seeks no idle squabble,
He joins no thoughtless rabble.
To clear his way
From day to day
His honest views extend;
When he speaks it's verily,
When he smiles it's merrily,
Dear to him his sport, his toil, his honour, and his friend.

How charming to find in his humble retreat
That bliss so much sought, so unknown to the great,
The wife only anxious her fondness to prove,
The playful endearments of infantine love.
Relaxing from his labours,
Amid his welcome neighbours,
With plain regale,
With jest and tale,
The happy hero see;
No vain schemes confound him,
All his joys surround him,
Dear he holds his native land, its laws, and liberty!



Blow, warder, blow thy sounding horn,
And thy banner wave on high.
For the Christians have fought in the Holy Land,
And have won the victory.
Loud the warder blew his horn.
And his banner waved on high;
Let the mass be sung!
And the bells be rung!
And the feast eat merrily.

The warder looked from the tower on high,
As far as he could see;
"I see a bold knight, and, by his red cross,
He comes from the east country."
Then loud the warder blew his horn,
And called till he was hoarse,
I see a bold knight,
And on his shield bright,
He beareth a flaming cross.

Then down the lord of the castle came,
The red cross knight to meet;
And when the red cross knight he espied,
Right loving he did him greet:
"Thou'rt welcome here, dear red cross knight,
For thy fame's well known to me;
And the mass shall be sung,
And the bells be rung,
And we'll feast right merrily."

"Oh! I am come from the Holy Land,
Where saints did live and die;
Behold the device I bear on my shield.
The red cross knight am I:
And we have fought in the Holy Land,
And we've won the victory:
For with valiant might
Did the Christians fight,
And made the proud Pagans flee."

"Thou'rt welcome here, dear red cross knight.
Come, lay thy armour by,
And for the good tidings thou dost bring
We'll feast us merrily:
For all in my castle shall rejoice,
That we've won the victory;
And the mass shall be sung.
And the bells shall be rung.
And the feast eat merrily."




When my hand thus I proffer, your own I deny not,
Nor offer it cold, nor a finger extend,
It freezes my blood when I find a man shy on't,
'Tis delightful when shook with the warmth of friend;
For the hand of the heart is an index declaring,
If well or if ill, how its master will stand;
I heed not a tongue of its friendship that's swearing,
I judge of a friend by the shake of his hand.

Yet it is not with each new-hatched comrade I'd shake me,
Be mine the tried friend, whose warm heart shall expand,
Who, in wealth or in sorrow, will never forsake me,
And the truth of whose heart I shall feel in his hand.

Then for friends, and friends only, this token reserving,
For them be it ever at will to command;
But each be thy friend who at all is deserving,
And give him thy heart with a shake of the hand.



We Brethren Freemasons, let's mark the great name,
Most ancient and loyal, recorded by fame;
In unity met let us merrily sing,
The life of a Mason's like that of a king;
No discord, no envy, amongst us can be,
No confusion of tongues, but let's all agree;
Not like building of Babel, confound one another,
But fill up your glasses, and drink to each brother.

A tower they wanted to lead them to bliss,
I hope there's no Brother but knows what it is;
Three principal steps in our ladder there be,
A mystery to all but to those that are free:
Let the strength of our reason keep the square of our heart,
And virtue adorn every man in his part.
The name of a novice we'll not ridicule,
But pity his blindness, nor count him a fool.

Let's lead a good life whilst power we have,
And, when our bodies are laid in the grave;
We hope with good conscience, to heaven to climb,
And give Peter the pass-word, the token, and sign;
Saint Peter, he opens, and so we pass in,
To a place that's prepared for all those free from sin;
To that heavenly lodge which is tyled most secure,
A place that's prepared for all those that are pure.



A Mason's daughter, fair and young,
The pride of all the virgin throng,
Thus to her lover said:
Though, Damon, I your flame approve,
Your actions praise, your person love,
Yet still I'll live a maid.

None shall untie my virgin zone
But one to whom the secret's known
Of famed free masonry,
In which the great and good combine
To raise, with generous design,
Man to felicity.

The Lodge excludes the fop and fool,
The plodding knave and party tool;
That liberty would sell.
The noble, faithful and the brave,
No gold or charms can e'er receive
In slavery to dwell.

This said, he bowed and went away,
Applied, was made without delay,
Returned to her again.
The fair one granted his request,
Connubial joys their days have blest,
And may they e'er remain.



Air — To all ye Ladies, &c.

To all who Masonry despise,
This counsel I bestow, —
Don't ridicule, if you are wise,
A secret you don't know;
Yourselves you banter and not it;
You show your spleen but not your wit.
With a fa, la, la, la, la, la.

If union and sincerity
Have a pretence to please,
We brothers of true masonry
Lay justly claim to these;
To state disputes we ne'er give birth,
Our motto friendship is and mirth.

Inspiring virtue by our rules,
And in ourselves secure,
We yield compassion to those fools,
Who think our acts impure:
From ignorance, we know, proceeds
Such mean opinion of our deeds.

Then let us laugh, since we've imposed
On those who make a pother;
Who cry, the secret is disclosed,
By some false-hearted brother;
The mighty secret gained they boast,
From post boy, or from flying post.



(W. F. Collard.)

My heart is delighted to see
All the friends I love best round my fire;
For good fellowship's all things to me,
And there's nothing on earth I desire
But a bumper of sparkling wine.

It is true, that our joys are but brief,
But sad faces will not make them long;
And the right way to shorten our grief
Is to lengthen our joys with a song
And a bumper of sparkling wine.

It is thus our enjoyment extends,
And the cares of the world we beguile,
When we see the bright eyes of our friends
To the toast of the fair beam a smile
O'er a bumper of sparkling wine.



Let drunkards boast the power of wine,
And reel from side to side;
Let lovers kneel at Beauty's shrine,
The sport of female pride:
Be ours the more exalted part
To celebrate the masons' art,
And spread its praises wide.

To dens and thickets, dark and rude,
For shelter beasts repair;
With sticks and straws the feathered brood
Suspend their nests in air;
And man untaught, as wild as these,
Binds up sad huts with boughs of trees,
And feeds on wretched fare.

But science dawning in his mind,
The quarry he explores;
Industry and the arts combined
Improved all nature's stores;
Thus walls were built, and houses reared,
No storms nor tempest now are feared
Within his well framed doors.

When stately palaces arise,
When columns grace the hall,
When towers and spires salute the skies,
We owe to masons all!
Nor buildings only do they give,
But teach men how within to live,
And yield to reason's call.

All party quarrels they detest,
For virtue and the arts,
Lodged in each true mason's breast,
Unite and rule their hearts.
By these, while masons square their minds,
The state no better subjects finds,
None act more upright parts.

When Bucks, Sol, Albions, are forgot,
Free-masons will remain;
Mushrooms, each day, spring up and rot,
While oaks stretch o'er the plain:
Let others quarrel, rant, and roar;
Their noisy revels when no more,
Still masonry shall reign.

Our leathern aprons we compare
With garters red and blue;
Princes and kings our brothers are,
May they our rules pursue;
Then drink success and health to all
The craft around this earthly ball,
May brethren still prove true.



Air — The Miller of Mansfield.

How happy the Mason whose bosom still flows
With friendship, and ever most cheerfully glows;
The effects of the mystery lodged in his breast —
Mysteries revered — and by princes possessed
Our friend and our bottle we best can enjoy,
No rancour or envy our quiet annoy.
Our plumb-line and compass, our square, and our tools
Direct all our actions in virtue's fair rules.

To Mars and to Venus we're equally true,
Our hearts can enliven, our arms can subdue;
Let the enemy tell, and the ladies declare,
No class or profession with Masons compare;
To give us a lustre we ne'er need a crest,
Since honour and virtue remain in our breast,
We'll charm the rude world when we clap, laugh and sing,
If so happy a Mason, say, who'd be a king?




Wake the lute and quivering strings,
Mystic truths Urania brings.
Friendly visitant, to thee
We owe the depths of Masonry.
Fairest of the virgin choir
Warbling to the golden lyre,
Welcome here, thy art prevail,
Hail, divine Urania, hail!

Here, in friendship's sacred bower,
Thy downy-winged and smiling hour
Mirth invites, and social song,
Nameless mysteries among,
Crown the bowl, and fill the glass
To every virtue, every grace,
To the brotherhood resound
Health, and let it thrice go round.

We restore the times of old,
The blooming, glorious age of gold;
As the new creation free,
Blessed with gay Euphrosyne:
We with god-like science walk,
And with fair Astrζa talk:
Innocence adorns the day
Brighter than the smiles of May.

Pour the rosy wine again,
Wake a louder, louder, strain!
Rapid Zephyrs, as ye fly,
Waft our voices to the sky,
While we celebrate the nine,
And the wonders of the trine,
While the angels sing above,
As we below, of peace and love.



Repeat last 4 lines of each verse as chorus.

Hail, Masonry, thou sacred art!
Of origin divine;
Kind partner of each social heart,
And favourite of the nine,
And favourite of the nine.
By thee we're taught, our acts to square,
To measure life's short span;
And each infirmity to bear,
That's incident to man.

Though Envy's tongue should blast thy fame,
And Ignorance may sneer;
Yet, still thy ancient honoured name
Is, to each brother, dear;
Is, to each brother, dear.
Then strike the blow, to charge prepare,
In this we all agree, —
May Freedom be each Mason's care,
"And every Mason free."




Air — Gee ho, Dobbin.

Who, I sing a song! bless my soul, how absurd;
Why, I can't sing a stanza, I'll give you my word;
Nay, though you call on me a week for a tune,
You may as well expect singing from the man in the moon,

And his hey down derry, ho down derry, &c.

Air — Mind, Hussey, what you do.

Yet, as second thoughts they say are best,
I'll make one short essay
To sing a song or — make a noise
In my humdrumming way.
Though in piano I've no skill,
Nor in quaverandum,
To cause amusement is my will
In comic merryandum.

SPOKEN.] So, without dwelling long upon birth, parentage, and education —

Air — Queen Bess.

When first to London town I came, Lord, how I stared about;
The beaux they jeered, the ladies stared at me — a country lout;
But soon I learnt your London rigs, and then — what then, you say;
Why, then I drinked, and smoked, and wenched, and turned the night to day.
Such was the wonderous change from a lout to a blood,
Yet, in our rows, I often had a tumble in the mud.

SPOKEN.] Oh, we bloods are a set of devilish comical dogs; oh, curse my old grandmother's dumpling-bag, but I was like to swear, and that's what we rum ones have taken an oath never to do; never swear, say I, 'tis such a d——d bad habit — that's all; but here I am got into a bye-corner, all alone by myself, singing —

Air — Fal de ral tit.

One night, when strolling along the street,
A schoolfellow of mine I chanced to meet.
He swore he would me quickly take
To a queer odd-fellows' club;
With all my soul, my buck, says I:
Come on, you quiz, nor ever be so shy;
If asked to sing, I can but try,
With my ri turn, fal lal, do, quoz,
Then I sung, quiz, fal lal, &c.

SPOKEN.] So you see, in a brace of seconds, according to custom, I was called on for a song; "Lord bless your squinting peepers," says I to the Noble Grand, "I can no more sing, nor sing no more, than a sucking cuckoo."

You're an odd fellow, says he,
I can plainly see,
By the cut and mould of your jib.
You must laugh, sing, or cry,
Or, or, or — What, says I,
Or tell a d——d lie, or fib.

SPOKEN.] Lord, says I to myself, what must I do? sing, says myself, says I, for you know 'tis so fashionable with your fine singers now-a-days to make half a bushel of apologies, and all that, on purpose to set the company's expectation on tip-toe, or to whet 'em up to some tune; therefore, make no palaver about it, but convince them you can sing like — you shall hear what it is like, says I —

When thus I struck up,
Unheeding the critic's frown.
My pretty little song,
Fit for country or town.

Air — Bell-Chimeum

Three children sliding on the ice,
Upon a summer's day, pup iddle de ti tum te
As it fell out, they all fell in,
The rest they ran away, with their pup iddle &c.

Oh! had these children been at home,
Or sliding on dry ground, pup iddle, &c.
Ten thousand pounds to one penny
They had not then been drown'd, pup iddle, &c.

Ye parents, who have children dear,
And eke ye that have none, pup iddie, &c.
If you would keep them safe abroad,
Ne'er let them stay at home, pup iddle, &c.

SPOKEN.] There is something so molloncholy and pathetic in this little ditty it has occasioned many people to cry themselves to death; it is almost as diuretic as the tune which John, the coachman, whistles to his horses when drinking (whistles); while some people have declared it is as soporific as hie chirrupping of an owl in a coal-black night, when darkness is visible (whoops like an owl); and other people (so diversified is human opinion) have pronounced it as harmonious as the caterwauling of two cats in a gutter, &c. per way, mew, &c. (imitating cats.)

Having ended my song,
If I'm right, I'm not wrong,
Is an argument none can refute;
Wishing mirth and good cheer,
Constant visitors here,
I conclude, without further dispute,

Singing toi de loi loi, &c.



(E. W. Brayley.)

You odd-fellows all, now I'll sing an odd song,
And a very odd song it shall be;
And, though very odd, yet it will not seem long
From a little odd fellow like me.

This world is an odd one, and full of odd folks;
Of oddities jumbled together;
Odd tricks upon tricks, and many odd jokes,
And cursedly odd sort of weather.

Father Adam, the first, was an odd sort of man,
Who'd a very odd sort of a wife;
For she with Old Nick played an odd sort of trick,
Which cost the odd fellow his life.

Their odd daughters, too, from that time to this day.
Act oddly, to keep on a level;
And if, by mischance, they get in an odd way,
Why, 'tis odd, but they've played with the devil.

There's odd doctors, too, and odd lawyers, like-wise,
Who scorn to refuse an odd fee;
With odd sailors, — 'twould excite much surprise,
Should they lose the odd fight on the sea.

But to make an odd end of this very odd song,
All odd people here will agree;
That with an odd heart, I've done my part
Very odd, for an odd one like me.



By Masons' art, the aspiring domes,
In stately columns, shall arise;
All climates are their native homes,
Their godlike actions reach the skies;

Heroes and kings, revere their name,
Whilst poets sing their lasting fame.

Great, generous, virtuous, good, and brave,
Are titles Masons justly claim;
Their deeds shall live beyond the grave,
Which some unborn shall loud proclaim.

Time shall their glorious acts enroll,
And love, with friendship, charm the soul.



Air — There is nae luck.
(J. Roberts.)

Let every jovial guest unite
In social mirth and glee,
And prove that nothing can delight
So much as harmony.
Let Discord from our blest retreat
For ever banished be,
While revels each delighted soul
In peace and harmony.

For though wine is good, and brandy's good,
And ale, to soak our clay,
Yet these can no delight afford
When harmony's away.

"Our worthy chairman" takes his place,
And fills his pipe and glass,
And sings, and toasts, and hopes the night
In harmony will pass.

The deputy his station takes
His glass and steamer too,
And begs his friends to harmony
To give attention due.

The jovial guests, with cheerful looks,
Their nectar drink and sing;
And own the pleasures that they feel
From harmony do spring.

And wish that each succeeding night
Like this may pass away,
In friendship pure, and harmony,
And joy without allay.



'Tis Masonry unites mankind,
To generous actions forms the soul;
In friendly converse all conjoined,
One spirit animates the whole.

Where'er aspiring domes arise,
Wherever sacred altars stand,
Those altars blaze unto the skies,
Those domes proclaim the mason's hand.

As passions rough, the soul disguise,
Till science cultivates the mind,
So the rude stone unshapen lies,
Till by the mason's art refined.

Though still our chief concern and care
Be to deserve a brother's name;
Yet ever mindful of the fair,
Their kindest influence we claim.

Sing, brethren, then, the craft divine,
(Best band of social joy and mirth,)
With choral sound and cheerful wine,
Proclaim its virtues o'er the earth.



Air — Smile, Britannia.

Attend, attend the strains,
Ye masons free, whilst I,
To celebrate your fame,
Your virtues sound on high;
Accepted Masons free and bold,
Will never live the dupes to gold.

Great Solomon, the king,
Great architect of fame;
Of whom all coasts did ring,
Revered a Mason's name:
Like him, accepted, free, and bold,
True wisdom we prefer to gold.

Since him, the great and wise
Of every age and clime,
With fame that never dies,
Pursued the art sublime;
Inspired by heaven, just and free,
Have honoured much our mystery.

The glorious path of those,
With heaven-born wisdom crowned,
We every day disclose,
And tread on sacred ground;
A Mason righteous, just, and free,
Or else not worthy Masonry.




Adieu! a heart-warm, fond adieu!
Dear brothers of the mystic tie
Ye favour'd, ye enlighten'd few,
Companions of my social joy!
Though I to foreign lands must hie,
Pursuing fortune's slidd'ry ba,
With melting heart, and brimful eye,
I'll mind you still, though far awa'.

Oft have I met your social band,
And spent the cheerful festive night
Oft, honour'd with supreme command,
Presided o'er the sons of light;
And by that hieroglyphic bright,
Which none but craftsmen ever saw!
Strong mem'ry on my heart shall write
Those happy scenes, when far awa'.

May freedom, harmony, and love
Unite you in the grand design,
Beneath the omniscient eye above,
The glorious architect divine!
That you may keep the unerring line,
Still rising by the plummet's law,
Till order bright completely shine,
Shall be my prayer when far awa'.

And you, farewell! whose merits claim,
Justly, that highest badge to wear!
Heaven bless your honour'd, noble name,
To Masonry and Scotia dear!
A last request, permit me here,
When yearly ye assemble a',
One round, I ask it with a tear,
To him, the bard, that's far awa'.




(John Parry, M.D.B.)

Accept of a song from a very odd man,
Who sings what he learns, and he learns what he can;
No man walks the earth with more pleasure and ease
Than he who endeavours to serve and to please.

Derry down, down, down, derry down.

Our sentiments, brethren, I'll briefly impart,
To show that Odd Fellows have virtue at heart;
Pale Calumny ne'er can Philanthropy stain,
Nor baneful assertions give Rectitude pain.

Derry down, &c.

I view, with great pleasure, the Most Noble Grand,
Invested with power and lawful command;
His seat is surrounded with Friendship and Love,
Which Time cannot alter, nor Envy remove.

Derry down, &c.

Supported by Ceres, and all her gay train,
Here Bacchus, Apollo, and Loyalty reign;
Our Monarch we love, and we'll fight in his cause,
And hazard our lives, in defence of our laws.

Derry down, &c.

Our motto is Honour, by Virtue 'twas given.
Whose actions and deeds are recorded in heaven;
The ways of the blest, in the regions above,
We imitate here — by our Brotherly Love!

Derry down, &c.



(Ralph Tomlinson.)

To Anacreon, in heaven, where he sat in full glee,
A few sons of Harmony sent a petition,
That he their inspirer and patron would be,
When this answer arrived from the jolly old Grecian —
"Voice, fiddle, and flute,
No longer be mute,
I'll lend ye my name, and inspire ye to boot;
And, besides, I'll instruct you, like me, to entwine
The myrtle of Venus with Bacchus's vine."

The news through Olympus immediately flew:
When old Thunder pretended to give himself airs —
"If these mortals are suffered their scheme to pursue
The devil a goddess will stay above stairs."
Hark! already they cry,
In transports of joy,
"Away to the sons of Anacreon we'll fly,
And there, with good fellows, we'll learn to entwine
The myrtle of Venus with Bacchus's vine."

"The yellow-haired god and his nine fusty maids
From Helicon's banks will incontinent flee;
Idalia will boast but of tenantless shades,
And the biforkιd hill a mere desert will be:
My thunder, no fear on't,
Shall soon do its errand,
And, d—'me, I'll swinge the ringleaders, I warrant;
I'll trim the young dogs, for thus daring to twine
The myrtle of Venus with Bacchus's vine."

Apollo rose up, and said, "Pr'ythee ne'er quarrel,
Good king of the gods, with my votaries below:
Your thunder is useless:" — then, showing his laurel,
Cried, "Sic evitabile fulmen, you know!
Then over each head
My laurel I'll spread,
So my sons from your crackers no mischief shall dread,
Whilst, snug in their club-room they jovially twine
The myrtle of Venus with Bacchus's vine."

Next, Momus got up, with his risible phiz,
And swore with Apollo he'd cheerfully join —
"The full tide of harmony still shall be his,
But the song, and the catch, and the laugh, shall be mine.
Then, Jove, be not jealous
Of these honest fellows."
Cried Jove, "We relent, since the truth you now tell us:
And swear, by old Styx, that they long shall entwine
The myrtle of Venus with Bacchus's vine."

Ye sons of Anacreon, then, join hand-in-hand;
Preserve unanimity, friendship, and love:
'Tis yours to support what's so happily planned;
You've the sanction of gods, and the fiat of Jove.
While thus we agree,
Our toast let it be —
"May our club flourish, happy, united, and free,
And long may the Sons of Anacreon entwine
The myrtle of Venus with Bacchus's vine."



Arise! and blow the trumpet, Fame!
Free-masonry aloud proclaim
To realms and worlds unknown:
Tell them 'twas this great David's son,
The wise, the matchless Solomon,
Prized far above his throne.

The solemn temple's cloud-capt towers,
The aspiring domes are works of ours,
By us those piles were raised:
Then bid mankind with songs advance,
And through the ethereal vast expanse,
Let Masonry be praised!

We help the poor in time of need,
The naked clothe, the hungry feed,
'Tis our foundation stone:
While justice and benevolence,
With fortitude and temperance,
Adorn and grace the thone!



Air — The Model.


An Odd Fellow's a fellow of whim and of sport,
Though his heart to humanity oft pays its court;
Expanded his mind, he feels as a man,
Relief to the widow and orphan his plan!
Where'er Fortune has placed him,
No murmurs escape him;
Contentment his lot,
E'en his foe is forgot, —
Such joy does the Odd Fellow know,
Who, daily toiling wearily,
At night, singing cheerily,
Every blessing enjoys which Content can bestow.

He never repines at the wealth of his neighbour,
Just enough to suffice, the sweet fruit of his labour;
With the girl of his heart blest, his bottle, and friend,
While health and good-humour his hours attend.
To his Lodge with glee repairing.
No cares his soul ensnaring;
But harmony presiding,
The hour cheerful gliding,
With friendship's sweet solace and mirth,
Around him bliss bestowing,
His cup of joy o'erflowing,
He envies no lord or king on the earth.

Come, brothers, then join in the wish of my heart,
United and firm let us keep, — nor impart
The secret to none but the worthy and wise,
Who deserve on their honour, and highly it prize.
May our Lodges all flourish,
Nor discord e'er nourish;
But, united and firm,
Let the detractor learn
That Odd Fellows by Virtue are moved;
To our country ever steadily,
Her rights maintain we readily.
And show that by Faction we will ne'er be subdued!




When Heaven, to soften human care,
Bade Pity sympathize with Woe,
That Sorrow's child should fortune share,
Friendship bestow'd on man below,
Whose balm dispelling every grief.
Brought to the aching soul relief;
To inspire the jest — create the smile,
Gay Momus reached our wave-bound isle,
Proclaiming loud the thunderer's love,
To bless with mirth the sons of Jove.

As Bacchus raised the generous vine,
As Vulcan formed the sparkling bowl,
Apollo struck the lyre divine,
And music's charms inspired the soul:
Through heaven was heard the sacred sound.
From heaven the pleasing notes rebound;
When Harmony arrived at earth,
By Wit inspired, to Song gave birth,
And Love his choicest chaplets wove,
To deck the favorite sons of Jove.

In peals of thunder swell the sound,
Echo the mandate as it floats,
Louder the enchanting theme resound,
And catch the mirth-inspiring notes.
Sacred to Harmony and Love,
Inspired by Friendship and by Jove,
Our bowls with necterous vigour flow,
Our bosoms share the mutual glow;
While Mirth, descending from above,
Hails us the jovial sons of Jove.




Others with splendour and parade
Their new-chosen members usher in,
Flags, banners, noise, cars, cavalcade,
Spears, halberts, tumult, dirt, and din.

Members of our society
Are chosen on a different plan;
We bid them welcome with a glee;
And swear them o'er the flowing can.

Free-Masons, with mysterious rites,
Their new-elected members hail;
And talk by signs, and brood whole nights,
O'er compass, trowel, mop, and pail.

Members of parliament, in air
On brawny shoulders lifted high.
Sit lolling in a great arm-chair,
While roaring thousands rend the sky.

To choose Lord Mayor, upon the Thames
Squadrons of barges scare the swans;
With turf-gallants and country dames
Are sopped and soused with City dons.

Courtiers and lords prefer kissed hands;
Sheriffs and aldermen carouse;
Doctors harangue, to gain their bands;
Judges and counsellors make bows.

Members of our society
Are chosen on a different plan;
We bid them welcome with a glee;
And swear them o'er the flowing can.




Unite! unite! your voices raise,
Loud! loudly sing freemasons' praise;
Spread far and wide their spotless fame,
And glory in the sacred name.

Behold! behold! the upright band,
In Virtue's paths go hand and hand;
They shun each ill, they do no wrong,
Strict honour does to them belong.

How just! how just are all their ways,
Superior far to mortal praise;
Their worth description far exceeds,
For matchless are freemasons' deeds.

Go on! go on! ye just and true,
Still, still the same bright path pursue;
The admiring world shall on you gaze,
And Friendship's altar ever blaze.

Begone! begone! fly, Discord, hence,
With party-age and insolence;
Sweet Peace shall bless this happy band,
And Freedom smile throughout the land.



Air — Poor Jack.

Let Freemasons boast of their early got fame,
And what trials their lodges have stood,
Let sage Druids boast how ancient their name.
Yet I'll prove Odd-fellows as good.
There's the Sols and the Bucks with their pageants look gay,
Still, Odd-fellows more useful have been;
For in honour and fame they still lead the way,
As in history's now to be seen,
So then let Odd-fellows to mirth now incline.
As our plan is to drive away care,
Come, brothers, unite and cheerful combine
Heart and hand in support of the chair.

That Adam was odd, you all will agree,
As he knew not the day of his birth;
In the garden of Paradise placed was he,
His companions the fruit of the earth.
Happy Adam had been if odd he'd remained,
For while an Odd-fellow was he,
Nought but happiness knew till a helpmate was framed,
And deceived by the fruit of the tree.
Thus I prove father Adam our patron to be,
And while odd that he never knew care,
Yet I bow with respect to the virtuous and good.
Heart and hand in support of the fair.

Shakspeare an Odd-fellow was has clearly been proved,
For his equal has never been found,
Garrick an odd-fellow was, by all sects beloved.
As his talents, sirs, never knew bound;
Great Nelson was odd in his fighting at sea,
For his country he died as he lived,
His glory untarnished, his principles free,
His memory cherished and loved;
Come join, brothers all, — in a bumper we'll give
The navy, and success to the fair!
And may all worthy fellows still die but to live,
Here's the king, and support to the chair!

The world it is odd, and old Time, as he flies,
Is keeping an odd sort of date;
Then remember to act both merry and wise,
And be even with justice and fate.
Let our actions still prove the mind of the man,
Though odd in our manners we be;
To repel all invaders, still be it our plan,
While our tars reign lords of the sea;
May Health still attend our father, the King,
May you and I banish old Care;
Whilst, united and firm, we cheerfully sing —
Heart and hand, in support of the chair.




Not the fictions of Greece, nor the dreams of old Rome,
Shall with visions mislead, or with meteors consume;
No Pegasus' wings my short soarings misguide,
Nor raptures false lull me on Helicon side.
All clouds now dissolve; from the East beams the day,
Truth rises in glory, and wakens the lay,
The eagle-eyed muse sees the light — fills the grove
With the song of freemasons — of friendship, and love.

Inspired with the theme, the divinity flies,
And throned on a rainbow, before her arise
Past, Present, and Future — with splendid array,
In masonic succession, their treasures display;
She views murdered merit by ruffian-hand fall,
And the grave give its dead up, at fellowship's call!
While the craft, by their badges, their innocence prove,
And the song of Freemasons is friendship and love.

From those ages remote, see the muse speeds her way,
To join in the glories the present display;
In freedom and friendship, she sees the true band
With their splendour and virtues illumine the land.
Religion's pure beams breaks the vapours of night,
And from darkness mysterious, the word gives the light!
While the lodge here below, as the choirs from above,
Join the song of freemasons in friendship and love.

That the Future might keep, what the present bestows,
In rapture prophetic the goddess arose,
As she sang through the skies angels echoed the sound,
And the winds bore the notes to the regions around!
Her sentiment, then, our song shall retain, —
'Twas — "that masonry e'er may its lustre maintain;
And till time be no more, our firm union should prove
That the end of freemasons is friendship and love."



Air — Attic Fire.

Divine Urania, virgin pure,
Enthroned in the Olympian bower,
I here invoke thy lays:
Celestial muse, awake thy lyre,
With heaven-born sweet seraphic fire,
Freemasonry to praise.

The stately structures that arise,
And burst the concave of the skies,
Still ornament thy shrine:
The aspiring domes, those works of ours,
"The solemn temples, — cloud-cap't towers,"
Confess the art divine.

With prudence all our actions are,
By bible, compass, and by square,
In love and truth combined:
While justice and benevolence,
With fortitude and temperance,
Adorn and grace the mind.



(G. S. Carey.)

The trade of a mason's a good moral school,
Where the measures of life are established by rule,
When affairs go awry let your judgement incline
To make matters even by drawing the line.

Should your paths, being crooked, bewilder the mind,
Or encircled by care no alternative find,
Ne'er let your guide reason give way to despair,
Old time with exertion your troubles may square.

Should you meet with a brother in craft too profound,
Make use of your plummet, his subtlety sound,
Aad if you no bottom should find in his heart
When his hand he presents you, bid him depart.

Let your converse be level, your life not too gay,
But just within compass, the moderate way;
When you're crippled by age, infirm and oppressed,
Let Faith lend a pillar on which you may rest.




While with health on one hand and content on the other,
I enjoy a companion and friend,
That leave me no cares, nor vexations to smother,
Which oft on poor mortals attend;
And, while I reflect, that, with doctor and drug,
But few have through life brushed so well, O!
I give thanks, that with time, I've so long stood the tug,
Still a hearty and sound Odd Fellow.

The blessings of youth I enjoyed while I held 'em,
Though life's but a short fleeting day,
And mortals are pleased with ev'ning but seldom.
Yet I'll welcome its last parting ray;
And though time, on my face its deep furrows may plow,
And the bloom on my cheek may turn yellow,
Discontent he shall never see perched on the brow
Of a hearty old honest Odd Fellow.

We know that fine words may be founded on fiction,
And with friends, 'tis too often the case;
Yet, if ever I meet an old friend in affliction,
May I never put on a new face;
Nor a stranger distrest pass unfeelingly by,
While his tale to the winds he may tell, O!
But brush off if I can, the big tear from his eye,
Like a hearty old honest Odd Fellow.

And while thus through life I brush on strange and oddly,
When the book of my failings I scan,
'Tis my wish, by reform, ere I under the sod lie,
To brush them all off if I can:
And when the green grass shall, like thatch, overspread
The low roof, where at last I must dwell, O!
May each friend, left behind, till he spins his last thread,
Prove a hearty old honest Odd Fellow!



Air — Adieu, a Heart-warm fond, adieu.
(E. M.)

Though we are placed some thousand miles
From those we ever loved most dear,
Yet still shall pleasure's friendly smiles
This welcome day our spirits cheer.
As time revolves its annual round,
May honour be our leading-star,
And may our thoughts be ever found
On those dear friends far, far awa.

May oft this friendly circle meet,
Nor discord e'er their breasts invade;
But with delight each other greet,
With faces smilingly arrayed.
Joyful may we look forward for
Each bright return of Phoebus' car,
And think on that delightful shore
Where live our friends far, far awa.

Once more, then, raise the social glass,
Filled to the brim with sparkling wine,
And let my toast with pleasure pass,
Sure none says no — none will decline;
The toast which I shall now propose
Is firmly fixed by nature's law,
Since first this world from chaos rose,
Here's to our friends far, far awa.




Pray don't sleep or think,
But give us some drink,
For, faith, I'm most plaguily dry
Wine cheers up the soul,
Then fill us a bowl,
For 'ere long, you all know, we must die.

Yesterday's gone,
This day's our own,
Tomorrow we never may see;
Thought causes a smart,
And eats up the heart,
Then let's be jovial and free.

The world is a cheat,
With a face counterfeit,
And Freedom and Mirth discommends;
But here we may quaff,
Speak our thought, sing, and laugh,
For all here are Masons and friends.




I am even with those that with Mirth are at odds,
And would frown at a jest from a jovial odd fellow;
For to crabs I compare such unsociable clods,
Or to half-rotten medlars, more sour than mellow;
Besides, 'tis more odds than a toss, heads or tails, —
But those that want horses grudge those that can ride;
So my hobby I'll mount, not regarding who rails.
And let those laugh that win, I've the odds on my side.

And if oddly I'm treated, by bantering friends,
Like the pilot of state, in the dome of Saint Stephen,
'Tis odds but I soon smoke their odds, and their ends,
And with all such odd fish find the way to be even:
Or, should Care, in an odd fit, perchance, play the shark,
Like a gudgeon to catch me, at low-water tide,
With good spirits, I'll mount up to high-water mark.
And spring out of his reach, with the odds on my side.

When the wife's in a pout, as the best may, perchance,
Now and then swell the lip at our lipping the jorum;
And, she says, 'stead of Nancy, I stick close to Nantz,—
Nantz brandy, I mean, that Voluptas vivorum;
Then I offer the odds of my horse to her tongue.
That she faster can scold, than she ever could ride;
So, by bantering, I stop up her mouth like a bung,
As old Xantippe knows I've the odds on my side!

And don't think it odd, if I prove, flat and plain,
That the first of odd fellows was old Father Adam;
Till one night, from his side, as, asleep, he was lain,
To make matters even, sprung Eve, for his madam!
And she was the first of the petticoat race,
And great grandam of all that wear breeches, beside;
And 'tis odds, when odd squabbles between them take place,
But the petticoat race have the odds on their side.

For, although we think oddly of petticoat sway,
And pretend for odd wives that we care not a souse;
Yet, some odd wives there are who have found out the way
How to make an odd yokemate as quomp as a mouse;
And, as odd sorts of squabbles arise every day
Between breeches and petticoat, which shall preside;
Now and then, an odd wearer of petticoats may,
As odd things come to pass, wear the breeches beside.



Come, boys, let us more liquor get,
Since jovially we are all met,
Here none will disagree;
Let's drink and sing, and all combine
In songs to praise the art divine,
That's called Freemasonry.

True knowledge seated in the head
Must teach us Masons how to tread
The path we ought to go;
By which we ever friends create,
Drown care and strife, and all debate,
Count none but fools our foe.

Here sorrow knows not how to weep,
And watchful grief is lulled to sleep;
In our lodge we know no care.
Join hand in hand before we part,
Each brother takes his glass with heart,
And toast some charming fair.

Hear me, ye gods, and while I live,
Good Masons and good liquor give,
Then always happy me.
Likewise a gentle she I crave,
Until I'm summoned to the grave,
But when I'm summoned to my grave,
Then farewell my lodge and she.



Air — Bachelor's Hall.

Come, come, brother Masons, assemble with joy,
Let friendship and mirth still our labours employ.
Let vigour possess us in this glorious cause,
That gains from the heart most certain applause;
Still our work shall repel every envious shaft,
And honour ourselves, our country, and craft.

Come away, come away, to the lodge-room repair.
For union and truth are the badges we wear.

The compass, our guide, doth this lesson impart,
Content in our station, and upright in heart;
The paths we pursue are with virtue combined,
And conscious in truth, we are level in mind.
Here unite all opinions, what's here understood —
Is the light we receive, "be just and be good."

The world may endeavour our secrets to gain,
Industry and worth can the mystery obtain;
Here all are alike, no distinctions are known;
When friendship invites us, her dictates we own;
No politics ever we mix in our cause,
Though we honour our king, his religion, and laws.

Our hearts are expanded at charity's call,
No ambition or pride our enjoyments appal,
The secret that binds us is pure and refined,
And diffuse in our bosoms "good will to mankind."
'Tis thus we unite, and with firmness endeavour,
For the king, and the craft, and old England for ever.



Air — The Prince and Old England for ever.

Though my voice can't enchant like the syrens of old,
I'll venture your ears to assail;
The attempt do not deem too intruding and bold,
True friendship 'tis meant to exhale.
Of the compact that binds proud ambition and power
My poor simple lays never dream;
But that which, in friendship, shall sweeten each hour,
Odd Fellowship's praise is my theme.

Then, join my song, Brothers, the sentiment pass,
No harm's in a social endeavour;
Fill higher — Affection presides o'er the glass,
May Odd Fellowship flourish for ever!

Our Order and Rectitude ne'er can decay,
Honour's temple's erected on high;
'Tis Charity's hand which our virtues display,
Those virtues which never can die.
We Flattery scorn, it to Falsehood gives birth;
But rapture the deed must impart,
Which bids soft Humanity patronize Worth,
And light makes a sad Brother's heart.

Let sensual drones to rich viands invite,
Or tempt to gay Bacchus's board;
One moment of friendship will give more delight,
Than ages of pride can afford.
To wipe from the eye the big tear of Distress,
And to view the sweet gratitude shown
For those blessings bestowed, sure the donor must bless,
Whose heart is Humanity's throne.
Final chorus

Then, join my song, Brothers, the sentiment pass,
No harm's in a social endeavour;
Fill higher — Affection, presides o'er the glass,
Here's the King and Odd Fellows for ever.




At the sign of the Whistle and Wig
A party each Friday night met,
Who were of their abilities big,
Example all others to set.
The chairman arrived about six,
A youth turned of seventy-four,
Who, being quite full of his tricks,
Kept 'em waiting an hour or move.

SPOKEN.] Here's our worthy chairman at last. Order, order — Chair, chair.

(Chairman, in a feeble voice.) — Gentlemen, I hope you will excuse me for keeping you in suspense; but, you must know, a little affair of gallantry — and in cases of that sort we must be subservient; but, to proceed, as I've but just arrived, and out of breath, I shall ask my friend Strap to sing the first song. Mr. Strap, will you have the goodness to favour the company?

Strap (gruff voice) — Why, really, Mr. President, I'm always ready to oblige, but, as my memory is very treacherous, if I should stand in need of a prompter, I hope the company will excuse it. Hum, hum.

Oh, the days when I were young,
How I laughed at — hey down diddle, ho down diddle;
When the fields were covered with snow — (hesitation.)

(President.) — Gentlemen, why don't you prompt Mr. Strap. Prompt, prompt.

(Strap.) — Lack-a-daisy, Mr. President, I thought how it would be; I have taken a glass too much of my friend Squeezecrab's gooseberry-wine, and it has proved too strong for my weak nerves: have the goodness to knock me down.

(Butcher.) — Ha, ha, that would be killing work, Mr. Strap.

No, no, said Peter Sharp, (the club-wit, in a snuffle,) it would be only a striking proof of our approbation.

Oh, if that is only the case, why, we will sing —

Bravo, bravo, who would have thought him
Such a fine singer, I wonder who taught him.
Mr. Fog in rotation was named.
Compliance they all did insist,
Five minutes' indulgence he claimed,
His ideas were lost in a mist:
But he'd, sooner than harmony stop,
Attempt, if they order would call;
So his throttle he wet with a drop,
And screwed up his mouth for a squall.

SPOKEN, wry-mouthed.] Mr. President, if it meets with your approbation, I'll sing one of my own making; and I assure you it is quite new, for I haven't sung it for these twenty years.

(President.) — It must be new, indeed. Order, order, gentlemen, for Mr. Fog.

There was an old woman had three sons,
Jeffry, Jemmy, and John:
Jeffry was hanged, Jemmy was drowned,
T'other was lost, and he ne'er could be found,
So there was an end of the old woman's sons —
Jeffry, Jemmy, and John.
Bravo, bravo, who would have thought him
Such a fine singer, I wonder who taught him.
Next a butcher succeeded to Fog,
Whose voice was just like a bull roar;
He'd a nose like the snout of a hog,
And soon proved himself quite a bore.

Then it came to the parish-clerk's turn;
He'd taken his cups pretty free,
Who called out, "at excuses I spurn,
But (hiccoughs) thank'e for calling on me."

SPOKEN, as a drunken man.] Now, gentlmen, I'll give you an old favourite of my grandfather's, he used to sing it every morning before he waked; here goes —

Mat Mudge, the sexton of our town,
Though oft a little headdy,
With drink he'd so his senses drown,
Still some excuse was ready.
Mat swore the parson loved a sup,
And eke also the clerk;
But then it kept his spirits up
'Mongst spirits in the dark.
Bravo, bravo, who would have thought him
Such a fine singer, I wonder who taught him.
Now all look towards President's chair —
A medley was buzzed round the room;
He was ever a foe to dull care,
In mirth every day he'd consume.
So, to finish the evening's sport,
A bumper he tossed off in twig —
To the fair whose sweet smiles were his forte,
And success to the Whistle and Wig.

SPOKEN.] Gentlemen, I'll do my best; but allow me to give you a toast first. — The British fair, and may our endeavours to please be crowned with success.

Bravo, bravo.

Three times three — have you all drank that toast, gentlemen?

All, all. —

Hem, hem,— (Sings a medley, ad libitum.}

Bravo, bravo, who would have thought him
Such a fine singer, I wonder who taught him.



When Earth's foundations first were laid,
By the Almighty Artist's hand,
'Twas then our perfect laws were made —
Established by his strict command.

Hail, mysterious — hail, glorious Masonry!
Which makes us ever great and free.

As man throughout for shelter sought,
In vain from place to place did roam,
Until from Heaven he was taught
To plan, to build, to fix his home.

Hence, illustrious, rose our art,
And now in beauteous piles appear,
Which shall to endless time impart
How worthy and how great we are.

Nor yet less famed for every tie
By which our thoughts are bound,
Love, truth, and friendship socially
Join all our hearts and hands around.

Our actions still by virtue blessed,
And to our precepts ever true;
The world, admiring, shall request
To learn, and our bright paths pursue.




I'm odd in my manners, and odd is my song,
Which, like most odd matters, is not very long;
My purpose to prove, from the peer to the clod,
That we all have a something that makes us look odd.
Derry down, &c.

'Twere odd if a lawyer right honest should be,
Or should ever refuse, sirs, to pocket a fee;
A cit flout at turtle, or Roscius at fame,
Or a maid laugh at scandal, when thrown on her name.

Then, since we're all oddities, one with the other,
As Odd fellows, let us study to serve one another;
Yet in one thing be even, and that, sirs, to sing
Success to Old England, and God save the King.



Air — Drink and kiss the Lasses.
(P. G. Bennet.)

Come, Odd Fellows, jocund souls,
Pleasure's feast partake of;
With good spirits fill your bowls,
And Care for ever shake off.
At this soul-inspiring spring
Regale and fill your glasses;
Smoke, joke, and sing, then toast the king,
And drink and kiss the lasses.
With tol lol lol, &c.

Let the votaries of Care
Their cups of grief be filling,
While we, who true Odd Fellows are,
The cup of mirth are ringing:
Such sordid mortals we disdain,
Our joys their view surpasses;
The bowl well drain — then, fill again,
To drink and kiss the lasses.

Let the miser hoard his gold,
And pay it adoration;
Such slaves to Avarice we behold
With scorn and detestation;
With jovial hearts we meet, while he
His useless dross amasses;
With bosoms free, come, sing with glee,
And toast and kiss the lasses.

Let those who tread the stage excite
Amusement for a season,
We've joys to taste, from morn till night,
More lasting and more pleasing;
The effect would soon decay, 'tis found,
Were't not for their new farces;
Our joys abound the whole year round,
We drink and kiss the lasses.

Let those who frequent Margate's coast.
Against each other vying,
Their games, their routs, and fashion boast,
From scene to scene still flying;
And, while with anger, pride, and fear,
They envy all that passes;
Odd Fellows' cheer is drinking here,
And toast the London lasses.

Our secrets we will ne'er reveal,
No brothers' wants shall run by
Unnoticed, — for disposed we feel
To do as we'd be done by.
To join our band we suffer not
Dishonourable classes;
While life remains, be it my lot
To drink and kiss the lasses.



Assist me, ye fair tuneful nine,
Euphrosyne, grant me thy aid;
Whilst the honours I sing of the trine,
Preside o'er my numbers, blithe maid.
Cease, Clamour and Faction! oh, cease!
Fly hence, all ye cynical train!
Disturb not, disturb not the Lodge's sweet peace,
Where Silence and Secresy reign.

Religion, untainted, here dwells;
Here, the morals of Athens are taught;
Great Hiram's tradition here tells
How the world out of chaos was brought.
With fervency, freedom, and zeal,
Our Master's commands we obey;
No cowan, no cowan our secrets can steal,
No babbler our mysteries betray.

Here Wisdom her standard displays;
Here nobly the sciences shine;
Here the temple's vast column we raise,
And finish a work that's divine.
Illumed from the East with pure light,
Here arts do their blessings bestow;
And, all perfect, all perfect, unfold to the sight
What none but a Mason can know.

If on earth any praise can be found,
Any virtue unnamed in my song,
Any grace in the universe round,
May these to a Mason belong;
May each Brother his passions subdue,
Practise charity, concord, and love,
And be hailed, and be hailed by the thrice-happy few
Who preside in the Grand Lodge above.



Let us sing to the honour of those
Who baseness and error oppose;
Who, from sages and magi of old,
Have got secrets which none can unfold;
Whilst through life's swift career.
With mirth and good cheer.
We're revelling.
And levelling
The monarch, till he
Says our joys far transcend
What on thrones do attend,
And thinks it a glory with us to be free.

The wisest of kings paved the way,
And his precepts we keep till this day;
The most glorious of temples gave name
To Freemasons, who still keep their fame.
Though no prince did arise,
So great and so wise;
Yet in falling,
Our calling
Still bore high applause;
And though darkness overrun
The face of the sun,
We, diamond like, blazed to illumine the cause.




The loud trump of Fame willing ushers the day
When Cam's social sons first in friendship entwined,
When Honour and Truth lent a kindred ray,
To enlighten the heart which to virtue inclined.
All bless the great hour, and hailed the blessed power,
And prayed smiling Providence ever to shower
Those blessings which only descend from above —
Truth, charity, friendship, and brotherly love.

Though time makes the dull sordid mortal repine.
And each fleeting moment his pleasure annoy,
Such votaries of folly never met at my shrine,
Where mirth, love, and friendship, those moments enjoy.
Be wise while ye may, to our lodge come away,
Where Friendship, with smiles as celestial as day,
Will give you her hand, and a blessing impart,
Which every true brother will lock in his heart.

Though Envy in brotherly form should assail,
And Malice attempt our true hearts to divide,
Yet Friendship defies all their arts to prevail,
Not formed to enjoy, they will ever deride.
Still Friendship divine refulgent shall shine,
Since Charity's laurels her brow do entwine,
And hail her triumphant on earth to arise,
Till Time shall return her again to the skies.

Since life's rosy hour's so fleet on the wing,
And friendship and love can felicity give,
In innocent mirth let us joke, drink, and sing,
And the summer of youth cannot fade while we live.
This toast be most dear, "the virtuous fair!"
To them we will ever be true and sincere;
May they, when this lodge re-assembled above,
For ever unite us in friendship and love.




When, o'ertaken by trouble, each prospect looks lowering,
And every hope seems the soul to depart;
When the anguish of thought e'en the soul is devouring,
And pale melancholy o'ershadows the heart;
How soothing to meet with a friend's kind attentions,
Who can pour on our griefs consolation's sweet balm;
Oh! what pleasure we feel from his friendly intentions,
As our hearts then feel gratitude's liveliest charm.

How blessed is that man, whom no cares e'er disturbing,
And to whom each enjoyment of life's freely given,
For which, were he always his duty observing,
His heart would with gratitude flow unto Heaven!
I feign would believe there's no wretch in this world.
Though he be in crimes e'er so deeply imbrued,
(If there is, oh! may he to perdition be hurled,)
Who'd return for those blessings — base ingratitude.

As the sap is by Nature's pure instinct back driven,
And recedes from the branch to the root of the tree,
As a grateful return for the nourishment given,
And clear rivers roll back to their mother the sea;
As every benevolent act truly causes
With heaven-born gratitude all hearts to burn,
So — for our kind friends' very generous applauses,
We beg leave to give back — grateful thanks in return.




Though pure are the joys that from melody flow
And ecstatic the bliss that sweet concords bestow.
Divine are the raptures resulting from love,
And friendship sublime is a gift from above;
Yet with bounty superior Dame Nature can bless,
When a heart she bestows that can feel for distress.

The sweet drops that issue from Pity's soft shrine
Is fair Charity's balm, a specific divine;
What comes from above let us smilingly share,
And chase the sad tear from the furrows of Care;
Thus Nature's best blessings we freely possess
When a heart she bestows that can feel for distress.




Air — Mail-Coach.

Come! you are all invited,
Where you may be delighted,
If you'll only take a walk;
There are lots of pipes and backey,
With brandy, rum, and jackey,
At the Bull and the Cabbage-Stalk.
There's Mr. Johnny Stringer,
A very famous singer.
He has promised to be there;
And the waiter from the Thistle,
He is coming down to whistle,
And old Wastebut takes the chair.

SPOKEN.] Gemmen! I'll give you "the king!" and then I'll thank you to give your orders.

Waiter, when you come in, bring me a go of gin, and reach me some water before you go out.

I'll wait upon you, sir, when I have served the gentlemen.

(Chairman speaks.) What do you mean, Mr. Waiter, by insinuating that my friend is not a gentleman? — he is as respectable a master chimneysweep as any in this metropolitan country.

(Chimney-sweeper.) Yes; and never was considered a black-leg yet, although I've seen many games in my time.

(Gentleman, affectedly.) What do you mean, sir, when you say black-leg, and look at me?

(Chimney-sweeper.) Why, I meant blackleg, to be sure!

(Gentleman.) Repeat the word, and I'll show you a game you know nothing about, and that's Rouge et Noir.

( Sweep.) What's that?

(Gentleman.) Why, red and black! I'll black your eye, and cut your nose; and, if that's not red and black, I'm no judge of colours.

Order! order! for the chair.

Then sing, boys, and be merry,
With derry, hey down derry,
At the Bull and the Cabbage-Stalk.
Then the gin is very handy,
Likewise the rum and brandy,
And the songs and toasts go round;
There are bakers, soldiers, sailors,
Tinkers, barbers, cobblers, tailors,
And for mirth they're ne'er aground.

Now, the landlord is a sticker,
And, because he sells his liquor,
He's the butt of the company made;
Still, he hears and blows his cloud, sirs,
And then he laughs aloud, sirs,
Because it serves his trade.

SPOKEN.] Go it, (he cries,) let those laugh that win. Ben, take that gemmen's orders.

(Ben speaks.) He's a theatrical man, and says there are no orders admitted.

(Landlord.) Well, I'm not surprised at that, for, though he plays light comedy, he has been in the heavy line all the afternoon, and I dare say he's quite full.

Order! for the chairman!

(Chairman.) Gentlemen, I propose the health of Mr. Augustus Jeremiah Adolphus Truncheon, the actor, and thanks to him for the honour of his company.

Order! for Mr. Truncheon's speech!

(Truncheon speaks.) Gentlemen, you can't conceive how much I'm elevated; so much so, that I feel quite in the clouds.

(Chimney-sweep.) Well, so you are; ain't we all blowing our clouds?

Silence! silence!

(Truncheon.) Gentlemen, really I would thank you, but I can't speak!

Then sing, boys, and be merry,
With derry, hey down derry,
At the Bull and the Cabbage-Stalk.
Since the night was spent in clover,
It is time we should give over,
For the cash is nearly out;
So each forsakes his quart, sir,
To get a drop of short, sir,
Then goes home, or elsewhere, no doubt.

But, when the chairman starts, sir,
A set of jolly hearts, sir,
Will keep the fun agog;
There's one with laughter screeches
To hear another's speeches,
And they're all chuck full of grog.

SPOKEN.] Now, gentlemen, who's for starting?

(Drunken man.) Where's the use of starting? — there's nothing to be frightened at.

[A knocking heard.] (Landlord.) There's your wife at the door.

(Drunkard.) That alters the case; a scolding wife would make any man start; and as for mine, she's a complete ruffian; for, whenever I goes home with a drop in my eye, she always tries to choke me! It was but the other night, when I was picking a mutton-bone, that she plunged it into my throat; and that accounts for my drinking; for I've been trying to wash it down ever since; but come, by way of a finisher, we'll say —

Then sing, boys, and be merry,
With derry, hey down derry,
At the Bull and the Cabbage-Stalk.



(T. Moore.)

No, never shall my soul forget
The friends I found so cordial-hearted;
Dear, dear, shall be the day we met,
And dear shall be the night we parted.

Oh, if regret, however sweet,
Must with the lapse of time decay,
Yet still, when thus in mirth you meet,
Fill high to him that's far away.

Long be the flame of memory found
Alive within your social glass:
Let that be still the magic round
O'er which Oblivion dares not pass!



Let malicious people censure,
They're not worth a Mason's answer;
While we drink and sing,
With no conscience' sting,
Let their evil genius plague them,
And for Malice devil take them,
We'll be free and merry,
Drink port and sherry,
Till the stars at midnight shine,
And our eyes with them combine
The dark night to banish.
Thus we will replenish
Nature, while our glasses
With the bottle passes.
Brother Mason free,
Here's to thee, to thee;
And let it run the table round,
While Envy does the Masons' foes confound.



Air — To Anacreon in Heaven.

On Olympus' high hill, where Jove sat at a feast,
Merry Momus was there, full of humour and fun;
Thus bumpered the gods from the great to the least,
And the nectar flew round, till 'twas Momus's turn:
"I'll give you a toast, ye celestial host."
Cried Jove then, "what is it? I prithee now tell us."
Momus said, with a laugh, while the nectar he quaffed,
"Success to each Lodge of worthy Odd Fellows."

"What new sect are those, called 'Odd Fellows,' " cried Jove;
"Whom you have just honoured by drinking a toast?"
"Great sire, they are men that this court must approve,
For honour's their motto, and virtue their boast:
They are true and sincere, in their friendship so dear,
That no discord can reach them, their history tell us:
May they ever unite, free from envy and spite,
And joy crown the Lodge of all worthy Odd Fellows."

Says Jove, "I'm well pleased to find mortals so wise,
Who friendship prefer to self-interest so mean;
By honour thus taught all those arts to despise,
Which, with shame, on the earth I too often have seen:
Fly, Fame, through the sky, sound their praises on high,
And, Truth, ever sanction the history they tell us;
When time shall remove them to regions above,
We'll crown them with glory, all true worthy Odd Fellows."

Our most Noble Grand, let us toast — in the chair,
The Vice-Grand, and Officers each, in their station:
May honour and merit be ever their care,
And their names be revered by each Lodge in the nation;
While each loyal brother, still true to each other.
Laugh, drink, sing, and smoke, till we're all of us mellow;
Then homeward depart, this wish in each heart,
Joy and health be the lot of each worthy Odd Fellow.



Air — A Sailor's Life's a Life of Woe.

A Mason's life's the life for me,
With joy we meet each other,
We pass our time with mirth and glee,
And hail each friendly brother.
In lodge no party-feuds are seen,
But careful, we in this agree
To banish care and spleen.
The Master's call we one and all,
With pleasure, soon obey;
With heart and hand, we ready stand,
Our duty still to pay.

But, when the glass goes round,
Then mirth and glee abound,
We're happy every soul.
We laugh a little, we drink a little,
We work a little, we play a little,
We sing a little, are merry a little,
And quaff the flowing bowl.

See in the east, the Master stands,
The Wardens south and west,
Both ready to obey commands,
Find work, or give us rest:
The signal given, we all prepare,
With one accord, obey the word
To work by rule or square:
Or, if they please, the ladder raise,
Or plum the level line;
Thus we employ our time, with joy
Attending every sign.
But when the glass goes round,
Then mirth and glee abound,
We're all happy to a man;

The Almighty said — "Let there be light,"
Effulgent rays appearing,
Dispelled the gloom, the glory bright
To this new world was cheering;
But unto Masonry alone,
Another light, so clear and bright,
In mystic rays then shone;
From east to west it spread so fast,
That Faith and Hope unfurled,
We hail, with joy, sweet Charity,
The darling of the world.
Final chorus:

Then while the toast goes round,
Let mirth and glee abound, &c.



Air — Hearts of Oak.

With rapture proclaim the benevolent cause,
United by honour, stand firm to its laws;
The sweetest reflection it freely imparts,
Is the purest enjoyment of generous hearts.

Then prove to the world, by supporting the plan,
With hearts firm and steady,
Odd-fellows are ready
To relieve one another again and again.

Fell discord, and mean opposition repel,
With generous ardour let each bosom swell;
While factious opponents their malice display,
Philanthropy always our actions shall sway.

To the founder and fund we will cheerfully give
Our applause and support, aye, as long as we live,
Thus for ever Humanity's cause will be crowned
With success, and true harmony always abound.



While here Anacreon's chosen sons combine,
Like him to taste the joys of mirth and wine;
While the full bowl is with the goblet crowned,
Harmonic let the joyful song resound.

To banish life's troubles, the Grecian old sage
Pressed the juice of the vintage oft into the bowl,
It made him forget all the cares of old age,
It bloomed in his face, and made happy his soul.
While here, then, we're found,
Push the bowl around,
'Tis the liquor of life no care can control.

This jovial philosopher taught that the sun
Was thirsty, and oft took a swig from the main.
The planets would tipple as fast as they run,
The earth, too, was dry, and would suck up the rain,
While here, then, we're found,
Push the bottle around,
'Tis the liquor of life, pray who can refrain?



King Solomon, that wise projector,
In Masonry took great delight;
And Hiram, that great architector,
Whose actions will ever shine bright;
From the heart of a true honest mason,
There's none can the secret remove.
Our maxims are justice, morality,
Friendship, and brotherly love.

We meet, like true friends, on the level,
And lovingly part on the square;
Alike we respect king and beggar,
Provided they're just and sincere.
We scorn an ungenerous action:
None can with Freemasons compare;
We love and we live within compass,
By rules that are honest and fair.

We exclude all talkative fellows,
That will babble and prate past their wit;
They ne'er shall come into our secret,
For they're neither worthy nor fit.
But the persons that's well recommended,
And we find him honest and true,
When our Lodge is well tyled we'll prepare him,
And like masons our work we'll pursue.

There are some foolish people reject us,
For which they are highly to blame;
They cannot show any objection
Or reason for doing the same.
The art's a divine inspiration,
As all honest men must declare;
So here's to all true hearted brothers,
That live within compass and square.




While Science yields a thousand lights
To irradiate the mind,
Let us that noblest art pursue
Which dignifies mankind.

So to Masonry huzza!
So to Masonry huzza!
Whose art and mystery coincide
With gospel and with law.

The pompous dome, the gorgeous hall,
The temple's cloud-capt tower,
The Mason's glory shall proclaim,
Till time's remotest hour.

Yet he who thinks our art confined
To mere domestic laws,
As well might judge great Nature's works
Sprung up without a cause.

Ideal fabrics to uprear,
Some fools think all our art;
But little dream what plans we draw
To form an upright heart.

The plumb we poize, and clear each log
Which hangs about the string;
And each unruly passion's flight
Within due compass bring.

Religion's all-enlightening page
We spread before our eyes;
By which we're taught those steps to trace,
Which lead us to the skies.

The summum bonum then we learn,
To which true Masonry tends,
Our brethren as ourselves to love,
And all mankind, as friends.

The good Samaritan to prove
To all and every where;
Upon the level still to meet,
And part upon the square.

Upon this rock we'll stand, when worlds
To oblivion are consigned,
And vision's baseless fabric like,
Leave not a wreck behind.



Air — Bachelor's Hall.
(P. G. Cree.)

Come, brother Odd-fellows, attend to my call,
The voice of your noble doth summon you all;
'Tis the summons of kindness, which warms every breast
With friendship, and cheers the heart that's depressed.
Then attend, every brother, the gods I invoke,
Come, Momus, and aid us, with frolic and joke.

Hark away! hark away! while your spirits are gay,
Independent Odd-fellows will still bear the sway.

If to censure our order, dull mortals arise,
We smile at their threats, and their malice despise.
Let them come to our lodge and enviously prove,
Our motto is friendship and brotherly love.
While on rectitude's basis, our lodge firmly stands,
In defence of the order we'll join hearts and hands.

Then, brothers, be steady and true to the cause,
Hold sacred your rights, independence, and laws;
Let no party spirit amongst us be found,
But friendship and loyalty always abound;
Thus united and happy, Odd-fellows, come, sing,
Long flourish the order, and God save the king!



(C. Delafaye.)

Hail, Masonry, thou craft divine,
Glory of earth, from Heaven revealed,
Which dost with jewels precious shine,
From all but Masons' eyes concealed.
Thy praises due who can rehearse,
In nervous prose or glowing verse?

As Men from brutes distinguished are,
A Mason other men excels;
For what's in knowledge choice and rare,
But in his breast securely dwells?
His silent breast and faithful heart
Preserves the secret of the art.

From scorching heat and piercing cold,
From beasts whose roar the forest rends,
From the assault of warriors bold
The Mason's art mankind defends.
Be to this art due honour paid,
From which mankind receive such aid.

Ensigns of state, which feed our pride,
Distinctions, troublesome and vain,
By Masons true are laid aside;
Art's free-born sons such toys disdain.
Ennobled by the name they bear;
Distinguished by the badge they wear.

Sweet fellowship, from envy free,
Friendly converse of brotherhood,
The lodge's lasting cement be,
Which has for ages firmly stood.
A lodge thus built, for ages past
Has lasted, and will ever last.

Then in our songs be justice done
To those who have enriched the art;
From Jabal down to every one,
And let each brother bear a part.
Let noble Masons' healths go round,
Their praise in lofty lodge resound.



(W. B.)

As long as our coast shall with whiteness appear.
Shall Odd-fellows stand foremost in verse.
While harmony, friendship, and joys are held dear,
New bands shall our praises rehearse.

Though lodges less favoured, less happy, decay,
Destroyed by old Time as he runs;
Though St. Georges, and Sols, and Bucks fude away,
Still Odd-fellows shall live in their sons.

If Envy attempt our success to impede,
United, we'll trample her down;
If Faction should threaten, we'll show we're agreed,
And Discord shall own we are one.

While with ardour we glow, this our order to raise,
Promoting its welfare and peace,
Old brothers return, our endeavours to praise,
And new ones confirm the increase.

Go on, cries your father, for time is your friend,
Its flight shall increase your renown,
And Mirth shall your guest be, and Bacchus attend,
And joy all your meetings shall crown.




In all your dealings take good care,
Instructed by the friendly square,
To be true, upright, just, and fair,
And thou a fellow-craft shall be.

The level so must poise thy mind,
That satisfaction thou shalt find
When to another Fortune's kind; —
And that's the drift of Masonry.

The compass the other two compounds,
And says, though angered on just grounds,
Keep all your passions within bounds,
And thou a fellow-craft shall be.

Thus, symbols of our Order are
The compass, level, and the square;
Which teach us to be just and fair;
And that's the drift of Masonry.


In Alphabetical Order

PageTitleAuthor, if listed
276All Here Are Masons And FriendsChalmers
313All Odd Fellows In TurnBarrett
213To Anacreon, In HeavenTomlinson
213Arise! And Blow The Trumpet, Fame, To Masonry
343Be Wise While Ye May, To The Lodge Come AwayDriver
109Brethren Freemasons, Let's Mark The Great Name
361Brother Mason Free, Here's To Thee
197Brotherly LoveParry
124A Bumper Of Sparkling WineCollard
254Confess The Mason's Art Divine
442The Drift Of MasonryDibdin
331Each Brother Practise Charity, Concord, And Love
360Fill High To Him That's Far Away!Moore
6A Free And An Accepted Mason
350The Free And EasyBryant
116The Freemason's Daughter
248Freemasons' Friendship And LoveJases
63Free-Mason's SongClarke
376The Fruit Of BenevolenceBennett
405The Glories Of MasonryCollins
151Hail, Divine Urania, Hail!Jackson
77Hail! Masonry Divine
423Hail, Masonry, Thou Craft DivineDelafaye
156Hail! Masonry, Thou Sacred Art!
312Hail, Mysterious — Glorious Masonry!
142The Happy Mason
176The Harmonic SocietyRoberts
243Heart And Hand In Support Of The Chair
348The Heart That Can Feel For DistressCherry
266The Hearty Old Odd FellowCollins
175Heroes And Kings, Revere The Mason's Name
103I Judge Of A Friend By The Shake Of His HandPlumtre
283In Our Lodge We Know No Care
409Independent Odd-Fellows Will Still Bear The SwayCree
224The Jovial Sons Of JoveFrome
363Joy And Health Be The Lot Of Each Worthy Odd FellowSmith
292The King, The Craft, And Old England For Ever
38Let Masonry From Pole To Pole
392Like Masons Our Work We'll Pursue
383The Liquor Of Life
122Masonic Admonition
194Masonic FarewellBurns
258The Mason's AllegoryCarey
373A Mason's Life Is The Life For Me
192Masons Will Not Live The Dupes Of Gold
228Matchless Are Freemasons' DeedsJohnstone
294May Odd Fellows Flourish ForeverDriver
224Members Of Our SocietyDibdin
341The Most Glorious Of Temples Gives Name To Freemasons
92My Friend Is The Man I Would Copy Through LifeAndrews
1The Nightingale-ClubKnight
330Odd Fellows, Drink! And Kiss The LassesBennet
215The Odd Fellows' ModelTapsell
163The Odd-Fellow's WhimBritton
170The OdditiesBrayley
278The Odds More Ways Than OneCollins
268Our Friends Far, Far Awa'E. M.
101The Red Cross Knight
429The Sentimental Odd-FellowW. B.
197The Sentiments Of Odd FellowsParry
132Success And Health To Free-Masons
310Success To The Whistle And WigHickman
183'Tis Masonry Unites Mankind
213To Anacreon, In HeavenTomlinson


In Alphabetical Order

PageFirst LineAuthor, if listed
116A Mason's daughter, fair and young,
373A Mason's life's the life for me,
197Accept of a song from a very odd man,John Parry, M.D.B.
194Adieu! a heart-warm, fond adieu!Burns
215An Odd Fellow's a fellow of whim and of sport,Tapsell
213Arise! and blow the trumpet, Fame!
429As long as our coast shall with whiteness appear.W. B.
331Assist me, ye fair tuneful nine,
310At the sign of the Whistle and WigHickman
192Attend, attend the strains,
101Blow, warder, blow thy sounding horn,
175By Masons' art, the aspiring domes,
283Come, boys, let us more liquor get,
409Come, brother Odd-fellows, attend to my call,P. G. Cree
292Come, come, brother Masons, assemble with joy,
6Come let us prepare, We brothers that are
330Come, Odd Fellows, jocund souls,P. G. Bennet
350Come! you are all invited,Bryant
254Divine Urania, virgin pure,
77Hail! Masonry divine,
423Hail, Masonry, thou craft divine,C. Delafaye
156Hail, Masonry, thou sacred art!
142How happy the Mason whose bosom still flows
278I am even with those that with Mirth are at odds,Collins
313I'm odd in my manners, and odd is my song,Barrett
442In all your dealings take good care,Dibdin
392King Solomon, that wise projector,
132Let drunkards boast the power of wine,
176Let every jovial guest uniteJ. Roberts
243Let Freemasons boast of their early got fame,
361Let malicious people censure,
38Let Masonry from pole to pole,
341Let us sing to the honour of those
92My friend is the man I would copy through life,M. P. Andrews
124My heart is delighted to seeW. F. Collard
360No, never shall my soul forgetT. Moore
248Not the fictions of Greece, nor the dreams of old Rome,Jases
363On Olympus' high hill, where Jove sat at a feast,Smith
224Others with splendour and paradeDibdin
276Pray don't sleep or think,Chalmers
343The loud trump of Fame willing ushers the dayDriver
1The Nightingale-Club in a village was held,Knight
258The trade of a mason's a good moral school,G. S. Carey
294Though my voice can't enchant like the syrens of old,Driver
348Though pure are the joys that from melody flowCherry
268Though we are placed some thousand milesE. M.
183'Tis Masonry unites mankind,
122To all who Masonry despise,
213To Anacreon, in heaven, where he sat in full glee,Ralph Tomlinson
63To the science that virtue and art do maintain,B. Clarke
228Unite! unite! your voices raise,Johnstone
151Wake the lute and quivering strings,Jackson
109We Brethren Freemasons, let's mark the great name,
312When Earth's foundations first were laid,
224When Heaven, to soften human care,Frome
103When my hand thus I proffer, your own I deny not,Plumtre
348When, o'ertaken by trouble, each prospect looks lowering,Dupree
383While here Anacreon's chosen sons combine,
405While Science yields a thousand lightsCollins
266While with health on one hand and content on the other,Collins
163Who, I sing a song! bless my soul, how absurd;Britton
376With rapture proclaim the benevolent cause,Bennett
170You odd-fellows all, now I'll sing an odd song,E. W. Brayley


In Alphabetical Order

PagesAuthor (B.·. for Masons and Oddfellows)
92M. P. Andrews
313B.·. Barrett
330B.·. P. G. Bennet
376B.·. Bennett
170B.·. E. W. Brayley
194B.·. Robert Burns
258B.·. G. S. Carey
63B.·. B. Clarke
124W. F. Collard
266, 278, 405B.·. Collins
409B.·. P. G. Cree
423B.·. Charles Delafaye
224, 442B.·. Charles Dibdin
294, 343B.·. Driver
151B.·. Jackson
248B.·. Jases
228B.·. Johnstone
360T. Moore
197B.·. John Parry, M.D.B.
176J. Roberts
363B.·. Smith
215B.·. Tapsell
213Ralph Tomlinson