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Oh! disguised in uniforms that horrid are, In which we awkward feel.

We've come

A sight,

Chorus.

Of those we love, to steal.

Mary.

But I've my suspicions, that we've gone too far,

And nervous am I vow.

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Forward! forward all our hearts to fear are strangers,

The kiss our sweetheart gave us,

A charm from harm to save us.

Forward! forward all! we welcome direst dangers,

The star of glory shines upon

The forty-third Dragoons.

Chorus.

Forward all our hearts to fear are strangers,
Forward all! forward all!

Our hearts, our hearts to fear are strangers.

Chorus. We're something rich and rare.

We're something rich and rare,

The clothes we wear would make the angel Gabriel swear, A treasure we would be

To any living dime museum,

Not a suit complete,

Our heads and feet don't claim acquaintance when they meet, In fact, as well as we know,

We're a holy show.

If we are recognised, we'll be despised,

If not, anathematized;

We have to trust to luck, that we're sufficiently disguised, But who would ever guess,

That in this dress

We're hidden students in distress,

They've far more cause to think,

We're tramps disguised in drink.

QUARTETTE.

Jill, Mary, Jack, Eugene.

How sweet the bliss when lips are meeting,

And lovers's whispers die in sighs;

When in a kiss all joy, completing,

They taste loves rarest, dearest prize.

When souls are joined in blissful union,
And cares are fled like troubled dreams;
When hearts are knit in fond communion,
And all the world an Eden seems.

Then kiss, and kiss again, love!
Oh! but the moments quickly pass.

I'll kiss, and kiss again, love,

Cupid shall slowly turn Time's glass.

Then kiss, and kiss again, love,
Joy disappears like morning dew;

I'll kiss, and kiss again, love,

Ever to thee I'm true.

Chorus.

Then kiss, and kiss again, love, etc.

SONG AND CHORUS.

(Peck of pickled pepper.)
Ensemble.

Where is that peck of pickled peppers,
You went out to pick, etc.

FINALE.

Madam P.

At last our troubles all are ended,

And the time has come to say good-by;

Our play of mirth and music blended,

We beg of you not to view with critic's eye.

Chorus.

At last our trouble all are ended, etc.

END OF OPERA.

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