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diff --git a/old/50878-0.txt b/old/50878-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 67d42cd..0000000 --- a/old/50878-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,4012 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg EBook of Beadle's Dime Song Book No. 5, by Various - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most -other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of -the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have -to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. - - - -Title: Beadle's Dime Song Book No. 5 - A Collection of New and Popular Comic and Sentimental Songs - -Author: Various - -Release Date: January 8, 2016 [EBook #50878] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK BEADLE'S DIME SONG BOOK NO. 5 *** - - - - -Produced by David Edwards, Carol Brown, and the Online -Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This -file was produced from images generously made available -by The Internet Archive) - - - - - - - - - - 5 BEADLE’S 5 - DIME - - [Illustration] - - Song Book - - No. 5. - - A COLLECTION OF NEW AND POPULAR - - COMIC AND SENTIMENTAL - - SONGS. - - [Illustration] - - NEW YORK: - BEADLE AND COMPANY, - General Dime Book Publishers. - - - - - Books for the Hour! - - - MILITARY EXPLOITS - OF - Great Soldiers and Generals. - - - BEADLE’S - DIME BIOGRAPHICAL LIBRARY. - - Each Issue Complete. 100 Pages. Price Ten Cents. - - -No. 6.--THE LIFE, MILITARY AND CIVIC SERVICES OF LIEUT.-GEN. WINFIELD -SCOTT. Complete up to the present period. - -No. 4.--THE LIFE, TIMES AND SERVICES OF ANTHONY WAYNE (MAD ANTHONY): -Brigadier-General in the War of the Revolution, and Commander-in-Chief -of the Army during the Indian War. - -No. 1.--THE LIFE OF JOSEPH GARIBALDI: The Liberator of Italy. Complete -up to the withdrawal of Garibaldi to his Island Home, after the -Neapolitan Campaign, 1860. - - * * * * * - -These brilliant books of the most brilliant Commanders and soldiers of -modern times possess remarkable interest at this moment. Each book -will be found to be a _full_ record of the men and events in -which they acted so splendid a part. - - EVERY YOUNG MAN SHOULD READ THEM! - EVERY SOLDIER SHOULD READ THEM! - EVERY LOVER OF THE UNION SHOULD READ THEM! - - - For Sale at all News Depots. - - - - - BEADLE’S - - DIME - - [Illustration] - - Song Book - - No. 5. - - - A COLLECTION OF NEW AND POPULAR - - COMIC AND SENTIMENTAL - - SONGS. - - - NEW YORK: - IRWIN P. BEADLE & CO., - NO. 137 WILLIAM STREET. - - - - - Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1860 - BY IRWIN P. BEADLE & CO., - in the Clerk’s Office of the District Court of the United States - for the Southern district of New York. - - - - - CONTENTS OF SONG BOOK NO. 5. - - - Page. - A Dollar or Two, 39 - A Man’s a Man for a’ That, 41 - Angel’s Whisper, 18 - Auld Lang Syne, 16 - A Yankee Ship and a Yankee Crew, 19 - Bashful Young Man, 32 - Call Me Pet Names, 34 - Camptown Races, 45 - Charity, 30 - Cheer, Boys, Cheer, 15 - Comin’ Thro’ the Rye, 8 - Dermot Astore, 35 - Dilla Burn, 40 - Down the Burn, Davy, Love, 33 - Dumbarton’s Bonnie Dell, 30 - Ever of Thee, 35 - Gum-Tree Canoe, 7 - Hark! I hear an Angel Sing, 36 - I’d Offer Thee this Hand of Mine, 6 - In the Days when I was Hard Up, 66 - John Anderson, my Jo, John, 37 - Johnny was a Shoemaker, 44 - Kind Relations, 58 - Last Week I Took a Wife, 29 - Mary of Argyle, 24 - Meet Me by Moonlight, 13 - Napolitaine, 27 - Norah M’Shane, 17 - Nothing Else to Do, 67 - Och! Paddy, is it Yerself? 59 - Oft in the Stilly Night, 25 - Roll on Silver Moon, 23 - Sambo, I have Miss’d You, 55 - Sammy Slap, the Bill-Sticker, 22 - Simon the Cellarer, 71 - Something to Love Me, 21 - Some Love to Drink, 70 - Sourkrout and Sausages, 53 - Still so Gently o’er Me Stealing, 9 - The Gay Cavalier, 28 - The Gambler’s Wife, 60 - The Grave of Uncle True, 38 - The Grave of Bonaparte, 51 - The Ingle Side, 26 - The Irish Emigrant’s Lament, 64 - The Ivy Green, 57 - The Lass that Loves a Sailor, 68 - The Last Rose of Summer, 20 - The Lily of the West, 48 - The Minute Gun at Sea, 63 - The Monks of Old, 31 - The Musical Wife, 54 - The Ocean Burial, 62 - The Old Arm-Chair, 50 - The Poor Little Fisherman’s Girl, 61 - The Rat-catcher’s Daughter, 69 - The Rose of Allendale, 14 - The Tail iv Me Coat, 56 - The Watcher, 49 - Thou Art Gone from My Gaze, 13 - Thou hast Wounded the Spirit, 9 - ’Tis Midnight Hour, 26 - Twilight Dews, 27 - Umbrella Courtship, 47 - Wake! Dinah, Wake! 46 - Washington Star of the West, 72 - We’ll have a Little Dance To-Night, Boys, 43 - We Met by Chance, 10 - When I Saw Sweet Nellie Home, 5 - When the Swallows Homeward Fly, 11 - Whoop de Doodle do, 52 - William of the Ferry, 42 - Will You Love Me Then as Now? 12 - - - - - BEADLE’S - - DIME SONG BOOK. - - No. 5. - - - - - When I saw Sweet Nellie Home. - -Copied by permission of RUSSELL & TOLMAN, 192 Washington St., Boston, -owners of the copyright. - - In the sky the bright stars glitter’d, - On the grass the moonlight fell, - Hush’d the sound of daylight bustle, - Closed the pink-eyed Pimpernel. - As adown the moss-grown wood path - Where the cattle love to roam, - From Aunt Dinah’s quilting-party, - I was seeing Nellie home. - - _Chorus._--In the sky the bright stars glitter’d, - On the grass the moonlight shone, - From Aunt Dinah’s quilting-party - I was seeing Nellie home. - - When the autumn tinged the green-wood, - Turning all its leaves to gold, - In the lawn by the elders shaded, - I my love to Nellie told. - On the star-bespangled dome, - How I blest the August evening, - As we stood together gazing, - When I saw sweet Nellie home. - In the sky, &c. - - White hairs mingled with my tresses, - Furrows stealing on my brow, - But a love smile cheers and blesses - Life’s declining moments now. - Matron in the snowy kerchief, - Closer to my bosom come, - Tell me, dost thou still remember - When I saw thee, sweet Nellie home? - In the sky, &c. - - - - - I’d offer Thee this Hand of Mine. - - I’d offer thee this hand of mine - If I could love thee less, - But hearts as warm and pure as thine - Should never know distress. - My fortune is too hard for thee, - ’Twould chill thy dearest joys; - I’d rather weep to see thee free, - Than win thee to destroy. - - I’d offer thee, &c. - - I’ll leave thee in thy happiness - As one too dear to love; - As one I think on but to bless - As wretchedly I rove; - And oh! when sorrow’s cup I drink - All bitter though it be, - How sweet t’will be for me to think - It holds no drop for thee. - - I’d offer thee, &c. - - But now my dreams are sadly o’er, - Fate bids them all depart, - And I must leave my native shore - In brokenness of heart; - And oh! dear one, when far from thee, - I’ll ne’er know joy again; - I would not that one thought of me - Should give thy bosom pain. - - I’d offer thee, &c. - - - - - Gum-Tree Canoe. - -Copied by permission of RUSSELL, & TOLMAN, 291 Washington St., Boston, -owners of the copyright. - - On Tom bigbee river, so bright, I was born, - In a hut made ob husks ob de tall yaller corn; - An’ dar I fust met wid my Jula so true, - An’ I row’d her about in my Gum-tree canoe. - - CHORUS. - - Singing row away, row, - O’er de waters so blue, - Like a feather we’ll float, - In my Gum-tree canoe. - - All de day in de field de soft cotton I hoe, - I tink of my Jula, an’ sing as I go; - Oh, I catch her a bird wid a wing ob true blue, - An’ at night sail her round in my Gum-tree canoe. - - Singing row away, row, &c. - - Wid my hands on de banjo, and toe on de oar, - I sing to de sound ob de riber’s soft roar, - While de stars dey look down on my Jula so true, - An’ dance in her eye in my Gum-tree canoe. - - Singing row away, row, &c. - - But one night de stream bore us so far away, - Dat we couldn’t cum back, so we thought we’d jis stay, - Oh, we spied a tall ship wid a flag ob true blue, - An’ it took us in tow wid my Gum-tree canoe. - - Singing row away, row, &c. - - - - - Comin’ thro’ the Rye. - - Gin a body meet a body, - Comin’ thro’ the rye; - Gin a body kiss a body, - Need a body cry? - Ilka lassie has her laddie, - Nane they say ha’e I; - Yet a’ the lads they smile at me, - And what the waur am I? - - Gin a body meet a body - Comin’ frae the well, - Gin a body kiss a body, - Need a body tell? - Ilka lassie has her laddie, - Ne’er a ane ha’e I; - But a’ the lads they smile on me, - And what the waur am I? - - Gin a body meet a body, - Comin’ frae the town; - Gin a body greet a body, - Need a body frown? - Ilka lassie has her laddie, - Nane, they say, ha’e I; - But a’ the lads they lo’e me weel, - And what the waur am I? - - - - - Thou hast Wounded the Spirit. - - Thou hast wounded the spirit that loved thee, - And cherished thine image for years; - Thou hast taught me at last to forget thee, - In secret, in silence, and tears, - As a young bird, when left by its mother - Its earliest pinions to try, - ’Round the nest will still lingering hover, - Ere its trembling wings can fly. - - Thus we’re taught in this cold world to smother - Each feeling that once was so dear; - Like that young bird, I’ll seek to discover - A home of affection elsewhere. - Tho’ this heart may still cling to thee fondly, - And dream of sweet memories past, - Yet Hope, like the rainbow of summer, - Gives a promise of Lethe at last. - - - - - Still so Gently o’er me Stealing. - - Still so gently o’er me stealing, - Mem’ry will bring back the feeling - Spite of all my grief, revealing - That I love thee, that I dearly love thee still, - Tho’ some other swain may charm thee, - Ah! no other e’er can warm me-- - Yet ne’er fear, I will not harm thee, - No! thou false one, no, no! I fondly love thee still. - Ah! ne’er fear, I will not harm thee, - No, false one, no! I love thee-- - I love thee, false one, still. - CHORUS--Still so gently o’er me stealing, &c. - - - - - We Met by Chance. - - When evening brings the twilight hour, - I pass a lonely spot, - Where oft she comes to cull the flower, - We call “Forget-me-not.” - She never whispers go, nor stay; - She never whispers go, nor stay; - We met by chance, the usual way, - We met by chance, the usual way - We met by chance, - We met by chance, - We met by chance, the usual way. - - Once, how, I can not well divine, - Unless by chance we kiss’d, - I found her lips were close to mine, - So I could not resist; - As neither whisper’d yea, nor nay, - As neither whisper’d yea, nor nay, - They met by chance, the usual way, - They met by chance, the usual way, - They met by chance, - They met by chance, - They met by chance, the usual way. - - The roses, when the zephyrs woo, - Impart what they receive; - They sigh and sip the balmy dew, - But never whisper give. - Our love is mutual, this we know, - Our love is mutual, this we know, - Though neither tells the other so, - Though neither tells the other so; - Our love is mutual, this we know, - Though neither tells the other so. - - - - - When the Swallows Homeward Fly. - - When the swallows homeward fly, - When the roses scatter’d lie, - When from neither hill nor dale, - Chaunts the silvery nightingale, - - CHORUS. - - In these words my bleeding heart - Would to thee its grief impart: - Shall we ever meet again? - Parting! ah! parting, parting is pain. - Parting! ah! parting, parting is pain. - - When the white swan southward roves, - There to seek the orange groves, - When the red tints of the west - Prove the sun has gone to rest. - _Chorus._--In these words, &c. - - O poor heart! whate’er befall, - There is rest fer thee and all, - That on earth which fades away, - Comes again in bright array. - _Chorus._--In these words, &c. - - - - - Will You Love Me then as Now. - - You have told me that you love me, - And your heart’s thought seems to speak, - As you look on me so fondly, - And the life-blood tints your cheek. - May I trust that these warm feelings, - Never will grow cold and strange, - And you’ll remain unalter’d - In this weary world of change? - When the shades of care and sorrow, - Dim my eyes and cloud my brow, - And my spirit sinks within me-- - Will you love me then as now? - - Though our youth may pass uncloud’d - In a peaceful happy home, - Yet as year on year advances, - Changes must upon us come. - For the step will lose its lightness, - And the hair be changed to grey; - Eyes once bright give up their luster, - And the hopes of youth decay - When all these have passed upon me, - And stern age has touched my brow, - Will the change find you unchanging? - Will you love me then as now? - - - - - Meet Me by Moonlight. - - Meet me by moonlight alone, - And then I will tell you a tale - Must be told by the moonlight alone, - In the grove at the end of the vale. - You must promise to come, for I said - I would show the night-flowers their queen-- - Nay, turn not away thy sweet head, - ’Tis the loveliest ever was seen. - Oh! meet me by moonlight, alone. - - Daylight may do for the gay, - The thoughtless, the heartless, the free; - But there’s something about the moon’s ray, - That is sweeter to you and to me. - Oh! remember be sure to be there. - For though, dearly a moonlight I prize, - I care not for all in the air, - If I want the sweet light of your eyes. - So meet me by moonlight alone. - - - - - Thou art gone from my Gaze. - - Thou art gone from my gaze like a beautiful dream, - And I seek thee in vain by the meadow and stream, - Oft I breathe thy dear name to the winds floating by, - But thy sweet voice is mute to my bosom’s lone sigh. - - In the stillness of night when the stars mildly shine, - My heart fondly holds sweet communion with thine, - For I feel thou art near, and where’er I may be, - That the spirit of love keeps a watch over me. - - - - - The Rose of Allendale. - - The morn was fair, the skies were clear, - No breath came o’er the sea, - When Mary left her highland cot, - And wandered forth with me; - Though flowers deck’d the mountain’s side, - And fragrance fill’d the vale, - By far the sweetest flower there, - Was the Rose of Allendale. - - Where’er I wander’d, east or west, - Though fate began to lower, - A solace still was she to me, - In sorrow’s lonely hour; - When tempest lashed our gallant bark, - And rent her shivering sail, - One maiden form withstood the storm, - ’Twas the Rose of Allendale. - - And when my fever’d lips were parch’d - On Afric’s burning sand, - She whisper’d hopes of happiness, - And tales of distant land; - My life had been a wilderness, - Unblest by fortune’s gale, - Had fate not link’d my lot to hers, - The Rose of Allendale. - - - - - Cheer, Boys, Cheer. - - Cheer, boys, cheer, no more of idle sorrow, - Courage, true hearts shall bear us on our way, - Hope points before, and shows a bright to-morrow, - Let us forget the darkness of to-day. - Then farewell England, much as we may love thee, - We’ll dry the tears that we have shed before; - We’ll not weep to sail in search of fortune, - Then farewell England, farewell evermore. - - CHORUS. - - Then cheer, boys, cheer for England, mother England, - Cheer, boys, cheer for the willing strong right hand, - Cheer boys, cheer, there’s wealth for honest labor, - Cheer, boys, cheer for the new and happy land. - - Cheer, boys, cheer, the steady breeze is blowing, - To float us freely o’er the ocean’s breast, - And the world shall follow in the track we’re going; - The star of empire glitters in the West, - We’ve had a toil, and little to reward it, - But there shall plenty smile upon our pain, - And ours shall be the prairie and the forest, - And boundless meadows ripe with golden grain. - - CHORUS. - - Then cheer, boys, cheer for England, mother England, - Cheer, boys, cheer, united heart and hand; - Cheer, boys, cheer, there’s wealth for honest labor, - Cheer, boys, cheer for the new and happy land. - - - - - Auld Lang Syne. - - Should auld acquaintance be forgot, - And never brought to mind? - Should auld acquaintance be forgot, - And days of Auld Lang Syne? - - CHORUS. - - For Auld Lang Syne, my dear, - For Auld Lang Syne; - We’ll take a cup of kindness yet, - For Auld Lang Syne. - - We twa ha’e run about the braes, - And pu’d the gowans fine; - But we’ve wander’d mony a weary foot, - Sin Auld Lang Syne. - For Auld Lang Syne, &c. - - We twa ha’e paid let i’ the burn, - Frae morning sun till dine; - But seas between us braid ha’e roar’d, - Sin Auld Lang Syne. - For Auld Lang Syne, &c. - - And there’s a hand my trusty feire, - An’ gi’es a hand o’ thine; - An’ we’ll take a right gude willie waught, - For Auld Lang Syne. - For Auld Lang Syne, &c. - - And surely you’ll be your pint stoup, - And surely I’ll be mine; - And we’ll tak’ a cup o’ kindness yet, - For Auld Lang Syne. - For Auld Lang Syne, &c. - - - - - Norah M’Shane. - - I’ve left Ballymornach a long way behind me, - To better my fortune I’ve cross’d the big sea; - But I’m sadly alone, not a creature to mind me, - And faith I’m as wretch’d as wretch’d can be; - I think of the buttermilk, fresh as the daisy, - The beautiful halls and the emerald plain, - And, ah! don’t I oftentimes think myself crazy - About that black-eyed rogue, Norah M’Shane. - - I sigh for the turf-pile so cheerfully burning, - When barefoot I trudged it from toiling afar, - When I toss’d in the light the thirteen I’d been earning, - And whistled the tune of “Erin go Bragh.” - In truth, I believe that I’m half broken-heart’d, - To my country and love I must get back again - For I’ve never been happy at all since I part’d - From sweet Ballymornach and Norah M’Shane. - - Oh! there’s something so dear in the cot I was born in, - Tho’ the walls are but mud and the roof is but thatch; - How familiar the grunt of the pigs in the morning,-- - What music in lifting the rusty old latch! - ’Tis true I’d no money, but then I’d no sorrow, - My pockets were light, but my head had no pain; - And if I but live till the sun shines to-morrow, - I’ll be off to dear Erin and Norah M’Shane. - - - - - Angel’s Whisper. - - A baby was sleeping, - Its mother was weeping, - For her husband was far o’er the wide raging sea, - And the tempest was swelling, - Round the fisherman’s dwelling, - And she cried, “Dermot, darling, oh, come back to me!” - - Her beads while she number’d, - The baby still slumber’d, - And smiled in her face as she bend’d her knee; - “Oh! bless’d be that warning, - My child thy sleep adorning, - For I know that the angels are whispering to thee. - - “And while they are keeping - Bright watch o’er thy sleeping, - Oh, pray to them safely, my babe with me; - And say thou would’st rather - They’d watch o’er thy father, - For I know that the angels are whispering to thee.” - - The dawn of the morning - Saw Dermot returning, - And the wife wept with joy the babe’s father to see, - And closely caressing - The child, with a blessing, - Said, “I knew that the angels were whispering to thee.” - - - - - A Yankee Ship, and a Yankee Crew. - - A Yankee ship, and a Yankee crew, - Tally hi ho! you know! - O’er the bright blue waves like a sea-bird flew, - Singing hey! aloft and alow! - Her sails are spread to the fairy breeze! - The spray as sparkling thrown from her prow, - Her flag is the proudest that floats on the seas, - When homeward she’s steering now! - - A Yankee ship, and a Yankee crew, - Tally hi ho! you know! - With hearts aboard, both gallant and true, - The same aloft and alow, - The blackening sky, and the whistling wind, - Foretell the approach of a gale, - And a home and its joys flits over each mind; - Husbands, lovers, on deck there! a sail! - A Yankee ship, and a Yankee crew, - Tally hi ho! you know! - Distress is the word, God speed them through, - Bear a hand aloft and alow! - - A Yankee ship, and a Yankee crew, - Tally hi ho! you know! - Freedom defends the land where it grew, - We’re free aloft and alow! - Bearing down on a ship, in regal pride, - Defiance floating at each mast-head; - She’s wreck’d, and the one that floats alongside, - The stars and stripes that’s to victory wed. - A Yankee ship, and a Yankee crew, - Tally hi ho! you know! - Ne’er strikes to a foe while the sky is blue, - Or a tar aloft and alow! - - - - - The Last Rose of Summer. - - ’Tis the last rose of summer, - Left blooming alone; - All her lovely companions - Are faded and gone: - No flower of her kindred, - No rose-bud is nigh, - To reflect back her blushes, - Or give sigh for sigh. - - I’ll not leave thee, thou lone one, - To pine on the stem; - Since the lovely are sleeping, - Go sleep thou with them; - Thus kindly I scatter - Thy leaves o’er the bed, - Where thy mates of the garden - Lie scentless and dead. - - So soon may I follow, - When friendships decay, - And from love’s shining circle - The gems drop away; - When true hearts lie wither’d, - And fond ones are flown, - Oh! who would inhabit - This bleak world alone? - - - - - Something to Love Me. - - Something to love me, something to bless, - Something to smile upon and to caress; - Something to fill up the void in my heart, - That will not, when sorrow comes o’er me, depart. - Something that loves not as summer friends love, - As true as the star in the blue realms above; - Something with instinct enough to believe, - That will not, like most of earth’s proud ones deceive. - - Something to love me, something to bless, - Something to smile upon and to caress; - Something to fill up the void in my heart, - That will not, when sorrow comes o’er me, depart. - Something to love me, something to pet, - Something that kindness can never forget; - Something that clings to me, even a bird, - In whose sweet music reproach is not heard. - - Something to cheer me, and stay by my side, - That never will leave me, whate’er may betide, - That I may still in this hollow world find, - There’s something still left to be loving and kind. - Something to love me, something to bless, - Something to smile upon and to caress; - Something to fill up the void in my heart, - That will not when sorrow comes o’er me, depart. - - - - - Sammy Slap, the Bill-Sticker. - - I’m Sammy Slap, the bill-sticker, and you must all agree, sirs, - I sticks to business like a trump, and business sticks to me, sirs; - The low folks call me plasterer, but they deserve a banging, - Because, genteelly speaking, why my trade is paper-hanging, - CHORUS.--With my paste, paste, paste, - Oh, all the world is puffing, - So I paste, paste, paste. - - All ’round about the city now, when anything’s the go, sirs, - You’ll always find me at my post, a sticking up the posters; - I’ve hung Ned Forrest twelve feet high, and did it, sirs, quite - easy; - And I’ve been engaged, too, lately, both by Mario and Grisi. - CHORUS.--With my paste, &c. - - I’m not like some in our trade, they deserve their jackets laced, - sirs, - They stick up half their bosses bills, and sells the rest for - _waste_, sirs; - Now honesty’s best policy, with a good name to retire with, - So what I doesn’t use myself--my old girl lights the fire with. - CHORUS.--With my paste, &c. - - Sometimes I’m jobbing for the church with charitable sermons, - And sometimes for the theatres, the English and the Germans; - To me, of course, no odds it is, so long as I’m a winner-- - Whether I sticks up for a saint, or hangs up for a sinner. - CHORUS.--With my paste, &c. - - There’s Jenny Lind, I’m proud to say--sweet music’s great adorner, - I’ve had the honor of posting her in every hole and corner; - Alboni, too, so nice and plump, I’ve stuck her up that’s certain-- - And I’ve plastered Mrs. Mowatt, right on top of Billy Burton. - CHORUS.--With my paste, &c. - - Well now before I say good-bye, permit me to remind ye, - That round about the city here, you’re always sure to find me; - And if ever you shall have a job--to show how I deserve ye, - About the town, through thick and thin, I’ll brush along to serve ye. - CHORUS.--With my paste, &c. - - - - - Roll on Silver Moon. - - As I strayed from my cot at the close of the day, - About the beginning of June, - ’Neath a jessamine shade I espied a fair maid, - And she sadly complain’d to the moon. - Roll on silver moon, guide the traveler’s way, - When the nightingale’s song is in tune, - But never, never more with my lover I’ll stray, - By thy sweet silver light, bonny moon. - Roll on, &c. - - As the hart on the mountain my lover was brave, - So handsome, so manly, and clever; - So kind and sincere, and he loved me so dear, - Oh, Edwin, thy equal was never. - But now he is dead, and gone to death’s bed, - He’s cut down like a rose in full bloom; - He’s fallen asleep, and poor Jane’s left to weep, - By the sweet silver light of the moon. - Roll on, &c. - - But his grave I’ll seek out until morning appears, - And weep for my lover so brave, - I’ll embrace the cold turf and wash with my tears - The flowers that bloom o’er his grave; - But never again shall my bosom know joy - With my Edwin I hope to be soon; - Lovers shall weep o’er the grave where we sleep, - By thy sweet silver light, bonny moon. - - - - - Mary of Argyle. - - I have heard the mavis singing, - His love-song to the morn, - I have seen the dew-drops clinging, - To the rose just newly born; - But a sweeter song has cheered me, - At the evening’s gentle close, - I have seen an eye still brighter, - Than the dew-drops on the rose-- - ’Twas thy voice, my gentle Mary, - And thine artless, winning smile, - That made this world an Eden, - Bonny Mary of Argyle. - - Though thy voice may lose its sweetness, - And thine eye its brightness too, - Though thy step may lose its fleetness, - And thy hair its sunny hue, - Still to me shalt thou be dearer, - Than all the world can own. - I have loved thee for thy beauty, - But not for that alone,-- - I have watched thy heart, dear Mary, - And its goodness was the wile, - That has made thee mine forever, - Bonny Mary of Argyle. - - - - - Oft in the Stilly Night. - - Oft in the stilly night, - Ere slumber’s chain has bound me, - Fond mem’ry brings the light - Of other days around me; - The smiles, the tears of childhood’s years, - The words of love then spoken, - The eyes that shone, now dimm’d and gone, - The cheerful hearts now broken! - Thus in the stilly night, &c. - - When I remember all - The friends so link’d together, - I’ve seen around me fall, - Like leaves in winter weather, - I feel like one, who treads alone - Some banquet hall deserted, - Whose lights are fled, whose garland’s dead, - And all but he departed. - Thus in the stilly night, &c. - - - - - ’Tis Midnight Hour. - - ’Tis midnight hour, the moon shines bright. - The dew-drops play beneath her ray; - The twinkling stars their trembling light, - Like beauty’s eyes display. - Then sleep no more, though ’round thy heart - Some tender dream may idly play, - For midnight song with magic art, - Shall chase that dream away. - - ’Tis midnight hour, from flower to flower - The wayward zephyr floats along, - Or lingers in some shady bower, - To hear the night-bird’s song. - Then sleep no more, though ’round thy heart - Some tender dream may idly play, - For midnight song with magic art, - Shall chase that dream away. - - - - - The Ingle Side. - - It’s rare to see the morning breeze, - Like a bonfire frae the sea; - It’s fair to see the burnie kiss, - The lip o’ the flowery lea. - An’ fine it is on green hillside, - Where hums the busy bee; - But rarer, fairer, finer far, - Is the Ingle side for me. - - Glens may be gilt wi’ gowans fair, - The birds may fill the tree; - And haughs hae a’ the scented ware, - That simmer growth can gie; - But the canty hearth where cronies meet, - An’ the darling o’ our e’e, - That makes to us a warld complete-- - Oh! the Ingle side for me. - - - - - Twilight Dews. - - When twilight dews are falling fast, - Upon the rosy sea; - I watch that star whose beams so oft - Hath lighted me to thee. - And thou, too, one that was so dear, - Ah! dost thou gaze at even, - And think, though lost forever here, - Thou’lt yet be mine in Heaven? - - There’s not a garden walk I tread, - There’s not a flower I see-- - But brings to mind some hope that’s fled, - Some joy I’ve lost with thee. - And now I wish that hour was near, - When friends and foes forgiven-- - The pains, the ills we’ve wept through here, - May turn to smiles in heaven. - - - - - Napolitaine. - - Napolitaine, I am dreaming of thee, - I’m hearing thy foot-falls so joyous and free, - Thy dark, flashing eyes are intwining me yet, - Thy voice with its music I ne’er can forget; - I’m far from the land of thy own sunny home, - Alone in this wide world with sorrow I roam; - In the halls of the gay or wherever it be, - Still Napolitaine, I’m dreaming of thee. - - Napolitaine, art thou thinking of me? - Hath absence not banished my memory from thee? - Remember our meetings, their whispers to keep, - When bright eyes were calling all lovers to sleep? - And yet would I not have a shade on thy brow, - As bright as though ’twere lit is thine on me now, - For ’tis memory that brings all thy beauty to me; - Still, Napolitaine, I’m dreaming of thee, - Napolitaine, I’m dreaming of thee, - Napolitaine, I’m dreaming of thee. - - - - - The Gay Cavalier. - - ’Twas a beautiful night, and the stars shone bright, - And the moon o’er the waters played, - When a gay cavalier to a bower drew near, - A maid to serenade; - To tenderest words he swept the chords, - And many a sigh heaved he, - While o’er and o’er he fondly swore, - Sweet maid I love but thee. - Sweet maid, sweet maid, } Repeat. - Sweet maid I love but thee. } - - He raised his eyes to her lattice high, - While he softly breathed his hopes, - With amazement he sees, swing about in the breeze, - Already a ladder of ropes, - Up, up he has gone, the bird is flown, - “What is this on the ground?” quoth he; - “Oh it’s plain that she loves, here’s some gentleman’s gloves, - She is off, and it’s not with me.” - For these gloves, these gloves, } Repeat. - They never belonged to me. } - - Of course you’d have thought he’d have followed and fought, - As that was a dueling age, - But this gay cavalier, he quite scorned the idea - Of putting himself in a rage; - More wise by far, he put up his guitar, - And as homeward he went, sung he, - “When a lady elopes down a ladder of ropes, - She may go to Hong Kong for me.” - She may go, she may go, } Repeat. - She may go to Hong Kong for me. } - - - - - Last Week I Took a Wife. - - Last week I took a wife, - And when I first did woo her, - I vow’d to stick through life, - Like Cobler’s wax unto her, - But soon we went to some mishap, - To loggerheads together, - And when my wife began to strap, - Why I began to leather. - Fal lal de ral lal lal de ral lal ra, - Oh, I began to leather. - - My wife without her shoes, - Is hardly three feet seven, - And I to all Men’s views, - Am full five feet eleven. - So when to take her down some pegs, - I drubb’d her neat and clever; - She made a bolt right through my legs, - And ran away forever. - - When she was gone, good lack! - My hair like hog’s hair bristle, - I thought she’d ne’er come back, - So went to work and whistled. - Then let her go, I’ve got my stall, - Which may no robber rifle, - ’Twould break my heart to lose my awl, - To lose my wife’s a trifle. - - - - - Dumbarton’s Bonnie Dell. - - There’s no a nook in a the land, - By mountain, moss or fell, - There’s naething half sae canty, grand - As blithe Dumbarton’s dell. - And wou’d you speir the reason why, - The truth I’ll fairly tell. - A winsome lassie lives hard by - Dumbarton’s bonnie dell. - - Up by yon glen Loch Lomond laves, - And bold Macgregors dwell, - Where bogles dance o’er heroe’s graves, - There lives Dumbarton’s belle. - She’s blest with every charm in life, - And this I know full well, - I’ll ne’er be happy, till my wife, - Is blithe Dumbarton’s belle. - - - - - Charity. - - Meek and lowly, pure and holy, - Chief among the blessed three, - Turning sadness into gladness, - Heaven born art thou, Charity! - Pity dwelleth in thy bosom; - Kindness reigneth o’er thy heart. - Gentle thoughts alone can sway thee; - Judgment hath in thee no part. - - Hoping ever, failing never; - Though deceived, believing still; - Long abiding, all confiding - To thy Heavenly Father’s will; - Never weary of well-doing, - Never fearful of the end; - Claiming all mankind as brothers, - Thou dost all alike befriend. - - - - - The Monks of old. - - Many have told of the monks of old, - What a saintly race they were, - But ’tis most true, that a merrier crew - Could scarce be found elswhere! - For they sung and laugh’d, and the rich wine quaff’d, - And lived on the daintiest cheer! - For they laugh’d ha! ha! and they quaff’d ha! ha! - And lived on the daintiest cheer! - - And then they would jest at the love confess’d - By many an artless Maid, - And what hopes and fears they had breath’d in the ears, - Of those who had sought their aid! - And they sung and laugh’d, and the rich wine quaff’d, - As they told of each love-sick jade! - And they laugh’d ha! ha! and they quaff’d ha! ha! - As they told of each love-sick jade! - - And the Abbot meek, with his form so sleek, - Was the heartiest of them all; - And would take his place with a smiling face, - When refection bell would call! - When they sung and laugh’d, and the rich wine quaff’d, - Till they shook the olden wall! - And they laugh’d ha! ha! and they quaff’d ha! ha! - Till they shook the olden wall! - - Then say what they will, we’ll drink to them still, - For a jovial band they were! - And ’tis most true, that a merrier crew - Could not be found elswhere! - For they sung and laugh’d, &c. - - - - - Bashful Young Man. - - They say I shall get over it, but no, I never can; - You’ve no conception what it is to be a bashful man; - I--I--oh dear, I quite forget what I was going to say, - But would the ladies be so good as look another way? - I’d give--I don’t know what I’d not, if it were not the case, - But it’s a fact--I can not look a lady in the face; - I’d rather face--I would, indeed--I know I am a fool-- - I’d rather face a crocodile, than meet a ladies’ school. - - At parties, when, like other men, I’m ask’d if I won’t dance, - I blush and fidget with my gloves, and wish myself in France, - And while I’m standing stammering, and hanging down my head, - Some sandy-whisker’d coxcomb leads the lady out instead. - I did just touch a lady’s hand, last night, in a quadrille, - Oh, goodness, how my heart did beat! it’s palpitating still. - While my young brother, fresh from school, to show you how I’m - teaz’d, - Said, “Frank, why what a ’muff’ you are, girls like their fingers - squeez’d.” - - How am I to get married? I shall never have a wife, - I could never make an offer, I’m convinced, to save my life; - There’s the “quizzing” by the sisters, and the “questions” by mamma, - And the “pumping” that one goes through, in the study, by papa; - Then there’s that horrid honey-moon, the journey with a bride, - And grinning post-boys looking back, and no one else inside; - Oh my, the very thought of it quite takes away my breath, - I’m certain, at the wedding, I should blush myself to death. - - - - - Down the Burn, Davy, Love. - - When trees did bud, and fields were green, - And broom bloom’d fair to see; - When Mary was complete fifteen, - And love laugh’d in her e’e,-- - Blithe Davy’s blinks her heart did move - To speak her mind thus free, - “Gang down the burn, Davy, love, - And I will follow thee.” - - Now Davy did each lad surpass - That dwelt on this burn side, - And Mary was the bonniest lass, - Just meet to be a bride. - Blithe Davy’s blinks her heart did move - To speak her mind thus free, - “Gang down the burn, Davy, love, - And I will follow thee.” - - Her cheeks were rosy, red, and white, - Her een was bonny blue, - Her locks were like Aurora bright, - Her lips like dropping dew. - Blithe Davy’s blinks her heart did move - To speak her mind thus free, - “Gang down the burn, Davy, love, - And I will follow thee.” - - As fate had dealt to him a routh, - Straight to the kirk he led her; - There plight’d her his faith and truth, - And a bonny bride he made her; - No more asham’d to own her love, - Or speak her mind thus free, - “Gang down the burn, Davy, love, - And I will follow thee.” - - - - - Call Me Pet Names. - - Call me pet names, dearest--call me a bird, - That flies to thy breast at one cherishing word; - That folds its wild wings there, ne’er thinking of flight, - That tenderly sings there, in loving delight. - O, my sad heart is pining for one fond word! - Call me pet names, dearest--call me thy bird. - - Call me fond names, dearest--call me a star, - Whose smiles beaming welcome thou feelest from afar, - Whose light is the clearest, the truest to thee, - When the night-time of sorrow steals over life’s sea. - O, trust thy rich bark where its warm rays are! - Call me pet names, darling--call me thy star. - - Call me sweet names, darling--call me a flower, - That lives in the light of thy smile each hour; - That droops when its heaven, thy love, grows cold; - That shrinks from the wick’d, the false, and bold; - That blooms for thee only, through sunlight and shower. - Call me pet names, darling--call me a flower. - - Call me dear names, darling--call me thine own; - Speak to me always in love’s low tone; - Let not thy look nor thy voice grow cold; - Let my fond worship thy being enfold; - Love me forever, and love me alone; - Call me pet names, darling--call me thine own. - - - - - Dermot Astore. - - Oh! Dermot Astore, between waking and sleeping, - I heard thy dear voice, and I wept to its lay; - Every pulse of my heart the sweet measure was keeping, - ’Til Killarney’s wild echoes had borne it away. - Oh, tell me, my own love, is this our last meeting? - Shall we wander no more in Killarney’s green bowers, - To watch the bright sun o’er the dim hills retreating, - And the wild stag at rest in his bed of spring flowers? - CHORUS.--Oh! Dermot Astore, &c. - - Oh! Dermot Astore, how this fond heart would flutter, - When I met thee by night in a shady boreen, - And heard thine own voice in a soft whisper utter - Those words of endearment, “Mavourneen Colleen.” - I know we must part, but oh! say not forever, - That it may be for years adds enough to my pain; - But I’ll cling to the hope that, though now we must sever, - In some bless’d hour I shall meet thee again. - CHORUS.--Oh! Dermot Astore, &c. - - - - - Ever of Thee. - - Ever of thee I’m fondly dreaming; - Thy gentle voice my spirit can cheer; - Thou wert the star that, mildly beaming, - Shone o’er my path when all was dark and drear. - Still in my heart thy form I cherish; - Every kind thought, like a bird, flies to thee; - - Ah! never, till life and memory perish, - Can I forget how dear thou art to me; - Morn, noon, and night, where’er I may be, - Fondly I’m dreaming ever of thee, - Fondly I’m dreaming ever of thee. - - Ever of thee, when sad and lonely, - Wandering afar, my soul joy’d to dwell; - Ah! then I felt I loved thee only; - All seem’d to fade before affection’s spell; - Years have not chill’d the love I cherish; - True as the stars hath my heart been to thee; - - Ah! never till life, &c. - - - - - Hark I Hear an Angel Sing. - - Hark! I hear an angel sing-- - Angels now are on the wing; - And their voices singing clear, - Tell us that the Spring is near. - Dost thou hear them, gentle one? - Dost thou see the glorious sun, - Rising higher in the sky. - As each day, as each day it passes by? - - CHORUS.--Hark I hear an angel sing-- - Angels now are on the wing; - And their voices singing clear, - Tell us that the spring is near. - - Just beyond yon cliffs of snow, - Silver rivers brightly flow; - Smiling woods and fields are seen, - Mantled in a robe of green. - Birds and bees, and brooks, and flowers, - Tell us of all vernal hours. - There the birds are weaving lays, - For the happy, happy Spring-time days. - - Look! oh, look! the southern sky - Mirrors flowers of every dye; - Children tripping o’er the plain: - Spring is coming back again-- - Spring is coming! shouts of glee; - Singing birds on bush and tree; - And the bees--their merry hums; - For the Spring-time comes, it comes, it comes! - - - - - John Anderson, My Jo, John. - - John Anderson, my Jo, John, when nature first began, - To try her canny hand, John, her master-work was man; - And ye amang them a’, John, sae trig frae top to toe, - She proved to be na’ journey-work, John Anderson, my Jo. - - John Anderson, my Jo, John, ye were my first conceit, - And ye need na’ think it strange, John, tho’ I ca’ ye trim and neat; - There’s some folks say ye’re old, John, but I ne’er think you so, - For ye are a’ the same to me, John Anderson, my Jo. - - John Anderson, my Jo, John, when we were first acquent, - Your locks were like the raven, John, your bonnie brow was brent; - But now ye’re getting auld, John, your locks are like the snow; - Yet blessing on that frosty pow, John Anderson, my Jo. - - John Anderson, my Jo, John, frae year to year we’ve past, - And soon that year maun come, John, will bring us to our last; - But let not that affright us, John; our hearts were ne’er our foe; - Tho’ the days are gane that we have seen, John Anderson, my Jo. - - John Anderson, my Jo, John, we’ve clamb’d the hill thegither, - And mony a canty day, John, we’ve had wi’ ane anither; - Now we maun totter down, John, but hand in hand we’ll go, - And sleep thegither at the foot, John Anderson, my Jo. - - - - - The Grave of Uncle True. - - Beside the worn and moss-grown rock, - The ivy vine doth cling, - And the blue-bird from the shadowy oak, - Folds up his trembling wing; - And there until the vesper hour. - His song comes sweet and low-- - A requiem to the faithful heart - That slumbereth below. - - CHORUS.--Poor Uncle True, - Poor Uncle True, - And the lamps of heaven shine brightly down - On the grave of Uncle True. - - His pilgrimage on earth is done-- - His life of toil is o’er, - And summer’s gale or winter’s wail, - Shall meet his ear no more. - Death’s shadow hides his sleeping form, - And vails him from our view, - But the spirit of the past still dwells - Round the grave of Uncle True. - - The chaplet wreathed by Gerty’s hand, - Of roses white and red, - Unheeded in their freshness lie - Above his lowly head; - And the evening cricket’s chirp is heard, - When falls the pearly dew, - And the lamps of heaven shine brightly down, - On the grave of Uncle True. - - - - - A Dollar or Two. - - With cautious step, as we tread our way through - This intricate world as other folks do,-- - May we still on our journey be able to view, - The benevolent face of a dollar or two. - - CHORUS. - - For an excellent thing is a dollar or two, - No friend is so true as a dollar or two; - Through country and town, as we pass up or down, - No passport’s so good as a dollar or two. - - Would you read yourself out of the bachelor crew - And the hand of a female divinity sue? - You must always be ready the handsome to do, - Although it may cost you a dollar or two. - - CHORUS. - - Love’s arrows are tipped with a dollar or two, - And affection is gain’d by a dollar or two; - The best aid you can meet in advancing your suit, - Is the eloquent chink of a dollar or two. - - Would you wish your existence with faith to imbue, - And enrol in the ranks of the sanctified few? - To enjoy a good name and a well-cushion’d pew, - You must freely come down with a dollar or two. - - CHORUS. - - The gospel is preach’d for a dollar or two, - And salvation is claim’d for a dollar or two; - You may sin some at times, but the worst of all crimes, - Is to find yourself short of a dollar or two. - - - - - Dilla Burn. - - I loved a little colored girl, - She lived in Tennessee, - She was not much to any one, - But all the world to me. - Her master used her very hard, - But mine, he used me well; - And how I pitied this poor girl, - There’s none but me can tell. - - CHORUS. - - I loved her long, I loved her strong, - She loved me in return; - But she left one day, and went away, - My pretty Dilla Burn. - - My heart grew sad, I could not work, - And master wondered why; - I told him how she left one day, - And never said good-bye. - ’Twas then I learn’d from his dear lip - That Dilla had been sold; - And how we severed had to be, - For a petty sum of gold. - I loved her long, &c. - - But after that, it was not long, - Poor Dilla’s owner died; - When master bought her, good and kind - And gave her as my bride. - And now we’re happy in our cot, - And master’s pleased to see - How two fond hearts, that fondly loved, - Though black, can happy be. - I loved her long, &c. - - - - - A Man’s a Man for a’ That. - - Is there for honest poverty, - That hangs his head, and a’ that? - The coward slave we pass him by, - We dare be puir for a’ that. - For a’ that and a’ that, - Our toil’s obscure and a’ that, - The rank is but the guinea’s stamp, - The man’s the gowd for a’ that, - - What though on hamely fare we dine, - Wear hodden gray and a’ that? - Gie fools their silks and knaves their wine, - A man’s a man for a’ that. - For a’ that and a’ that, - Their tinsel show and a’ that; - The honest man though e’er sae puir, - Is king o’ men for a’ that. - - Then let us pray that come it may, - As come it will for a’ that; - That sense and worth o’er a’ the earth, - May bear the gree, and a’ that. - For a’ that and a’ that, - It’s coming yet, for a’ that; - That man to man the warld o’er, - Shall brithers be for a’ that. - - - - - William of the Ferry. - - Near Clyde’s gay stream there lived a maid, - Whose mind was chaste and pure; - Content she lived in humble life, - Beloved by all who knew her; - Protected ’neath her parents’ roof, - Her time pass’d on quite merry; - She loved and was beloved again, - By William of the Ferry. - - From morning’s dawn till set of sun, - Would William labor hard; - And then at evening’s glad return, - He gain’d a sweet reward. - With heart so light, unto her cot, - He tripp’d so light and merry; - All daily toils were soon forgot - By William of the Ferry. - - With joy their parents gave consent, - And fix’d their bridal day: - Ere it arrived, the press-gang came, - And forced poor Will away! - He found resistance was in vain-- - They dragg’d him from his wherry - “I ne’er shall see my love again!” - Cried William of the Ferry. - - Loud blew the raging winds around, - When scarce a league from shore; - The boat upset--the ruffian crew - Soon sunk, to rise no more. - While William, fearless, braved the waves, - And safely reach’d his wherry: - Peace was proclaim’d--and Jane’s now blest - With William of the Ferry. - - - - - We’ll have a Little Dance, To-Night, Boys. - - Oh, listen to this good old tune, - And then I’ll sing another, - Oh, Massa’s gone this afternoon, - To call upon his brother. - So darkies wait a little while, - Till he gets out ob sight, - We’ll drop the shovel and the hoe, - And have a little dance to-night. - - CHORUS. - - We’ll have a little dance to-night, boys, - And dance by the light of the moon. - - I want the cambric handkerchief, - I want the beaver hat, - Oh, hand me down the high-heel’d boots, - Likewise the silk cravat. - The darkies all are grinning, - Their teeth look very white, - ’Case they’re going over the mountain, - To have a little dance to-night. - To have a little dance, &c. - - I get up at the break of day, - To take my morning walk; - I meets my lovely Julian, - And this is the way we talk: - “I say, you are my only love, - You are my heart’s delight, - Won’t you go over the river, - To have a little dance to night?” - We’ll have a little dance, &c. - - - - - Johnny was a Shoemaker. - - My Johnny was a shoemaker, - And dearly he loved me; - My Johnny he was a shoemaker, - But now he’s gone to sea. - With nasty tar to soil his hands, - And sail across the briny sea. - My Johnny was a shoemaker! - - His jacket was a deep sky blue, - And curly was his hair; - His jacket was a deep sky blue, - It was, I do declare. - To reef the top-sails he has gone, - To sail across the briny sea. - My Johnny was a shoemaker! - - A Captain he will be bye and bye, - With the sword and spy-glass too; - A Captain he will be bye and bye, - With a brave and valiant crew. - And when he gets a vessel of his own, - He’ll come back and marry me. - My Johnny was a shoemaker! - - And when I am a Captain’s wife, - I’ll sing the whole day long; - Yes, when I am a Captain’s wife, - And this shall be my song: - May peace and plenty bless our days, - And the little one on my knee. - My Johnny was a shoemaker! - - - - - Camptown Races. - - Camptown ladies, sing dis song,--Du da, du da, - Camptown races track five miles long,--Du da, du da da. - Go down dar wid my hat caved in,--Du da, du da, - Come back home wid pocket full ob tin,--Du da, du da da. - - CHORUS. - - Gwine to run all night, - Gwine to run all day, - I’ll bet my money on de bob-tail hoss, - Somebody bet on de bay. - - Woolly moon came on de track,--Du da, du da, - Bob, he fling him ober his back--Du da, du da da. - Runnin’ along like a shootin’ star,--Du da, du da, - Runnin’ a race wid de rail-road car,--Du da, du da da. - Gwine to run all night, &c. - - De bob-tail horse he can’t be beat,--Du da, du da, - Runnin’ around in a two-mile heat,--Du da, du da da. - I win my money on de bob-tail nag,--Du da, du da, - An’ carry it home in de old tow-bag,--Du da, du da da. - Gwine to run all night, &c. - - Dar’s fourteen horses in dis race,--Du da, du da, - I’m snug in saddle, and got good brace,--Du da, du da da. - De sorrel horse he’s got a cough,--Du da, du da, - An’ his rider’s drunk in de ole hay-loft,--Du da, du da da. - Gwine to run all night, &c. - - - - - Wake! Dinah, Wake! - - Wake! Dinah, wake! the bright moon is beaming - O’er the meadow, the corn-field, and the hill; - And the stars, though no brighter than thy bright eyes, - Are gleaming o’er the earth, all so calm and still. - The violet in the glade is sleeping, - The lily is bending o’er the rill, - The rose in tears of pearly dew-drops weeping, - Near the river that flows calmly by the mill. - - CHORUS. - - Wake! Dinah, wake! the bright moon is beaming - O’er the meadow, the corn-field, and the hill; - And the stars, though no brighter than thy bright eyes, - Are gleaming o’er the earth all so calm and still. - - Wake! Dinah, wake! the gentle breeze is blowing, - The bird’s notes still hush’d in the grove; - The ivy around the sturdy oak is growing, - Clinging fondly as though something still to love - The shining river views it as onward rolling by, - And as on golden sands the ripples break, - In sweet enchanting tones it seems to murmur, - Wake, now, my dearest Dinah, wake! - CHORUS.--Wake! Dinah, wake, &c. - - Wake! Dinah, wake! and open thy lattice, - My heart, love, can brook no delay, - How dearly I love to thy sweet voice to listen, - More sweet than the lark’s morning lay. - Then come, dearest, come, for each throb of my heart - Speaks in language which love can not mistake, - So true that from thee I can not depart, - Then wake, now, my dearest Dinah, wake! - CHORUS.--Wake! Dinah, wake, &c. - - - - - Umbrella Courtship. - - A belle and a beau would walking go, - In love they both were pining; - The wind in gentle gales did blow, - An April sun was shining. - Though Simon long had courted Miss, - He knew he’d acted wrong in - Not having dared to steal a kiss, - Which set her quite a longing--Tol ol ol. - - It so occurred as they did walk, - And viewed each dale so flow’ry, - As Simon by her side did stalk, - Declared the sky looked show’ry. - The rain came to her like a drug, - When loudly he did bellow, - “Look here, my love, we can be snug, - For I’ve got an umbrella”--Tol ol ol. - - Quick flew the shelter over Miss; - Now Simon was a droll one, - He thought this was the time to kiss, - So from her lips he stole one. - She blushed;--the rain left off, and he - The umbrella closed for draining; - “Oh don’t,” says she, “I plainly see, - It hasn’t left off raining.”--Tol ol ol. - - Now Simon when he smoked the plan, - The umbrella righted, - He grew quite bold, talked like a man, - And she seemed quite delighted. - Their lips rang chimes full fifty times, - Like simple lovers training; - Says she “These are but lover’s crimes; - I hope it won’t leave off raining.”--Tol ol ol. - - Before they reached the door that night, - He all his love did tell her, - She said when you a courting come, - Don’t forget your umbrella. - They married were, had children dear, - Eight round-faced little fellows; - And strange to state the whole of the eight, - Were marked with umbrellas.--Tol ol ol. - - - - - The Lily of the West. - - I just came down from Louisville, some pleasure for to find, - A handsome girl from Michigan, so pleasing to my mind; - Her rosy cheeks and rolling eyes like arrows pierced my breast, - They call her handsome Mary, the Lily of the West. - - I court’d her for many a day, her love I thought to gain, - Too soon, too soon she slighted me, which caused me grief and pain; - She robb’d me of my liberty--deprived me of my rest, - They call her handsome Mary, the Lily of the West. - - One evening as I rambled down by yon shady grove, - I met a lord of high degree, conversing with my love; - He sang, he sang so merrily, while I was sore oppress’d, - He sang for handsome Mary, the Lily of the West. - - I rushed upon my rival, a dagger in my hand, - I tore him from my true love, and boldly made him stand; - Being mad to desperation, my dagger pierced his breast, - I was betray’d by Mary, the Lily of the West. - - Now my trial has come on, and sentenced soon I’ll be, - They put me in the criminal box and there convicted me, - She so deceived the jury, so modestly did dress, - She far outshone bright Venus--the Lily of the West. - - Since then I’ve gain’d my liberty, I’ll rove the country through, - I’ll travel the city over, to find my loved one true; - Although she stole my liberty, and deprived me of my rest, - I love my Mary, the Lily of the West. - - - - - The Watcher. - - The night was dark and fearful, - The blast swept wailing by, - A watcher, pale and tearful, - Look’d forth with anxious eye; - How wistfully she gazeth, - No gleam of morn is there; - Her eyes to heaven she raiseth - In agony of prayer. - - Within that dwelling lonely, - Where want and darkness reign, - Her precious child, her only, - Lay moaning in his pain; - And death alone can free him, - She felt that this must be, - But oh, for morn to see him - Smile once again on me. - - A hundred lights are glancing - In yonder mansion fair, - And merry feet are dancing, - They heed not morning there; - Oh, young and joyous creatures, - One lamp from out your store - Would give that young boy’s features - To his mother’s gaze once more. - - The morning sun is shining, - She heedeth not its ray, - Beside her dead reclining, - The pale, dead mother lay. - A smile her lips was wreathing, - A smile of hope and love, - As though she still were breathing, - “There’s light for us above.” - - - - - The Old Arm-Chair. - - I love it, I love it! and who shall dare - To chide me for loving that old arm-chair? - I’ve treasured it long as a sainted prize, - I’ve bedew’d it with tears, I’ve embalm’d it with sighs! - ’Tis bound by a thousand bands to my heart; - Not a tie will break, not a link will start; - Would you know the spell?--a mother sat there! - A sacred thing is that old arm-chair. - - In childhood’s hour I linger’d near - The hallow’d seat with listening ear; - And gentle words that mother would give - To fit me to die, and teach me to live. - She told me that shame would never betide, - With truth for my creed, and God for my guide; - She taught me to lisp my earliest prayer, - As I knelt beside that old arm-chair. - - I sat and watch’d her many a day, - When her eye grew dim, and her locks were gray; - And I almost worship’d her when she smiled, - And turn’d from her Bible to bless her child. - Years roll’d on, but the last one sped-- - My idol was shatter’d, my earth-star fled! - I learnt how much the heart can bear, - When I saw her die in the old arm-chair. - - ’Tis past, ’tis past! but I gaze on it now, - With quivering breath and throbbing brow; - ’Twas there she nursed, ’twas there she died, - And memory flows with lava tide. - Say it is folly, and deem me weak, - Whilst scalding drops start down my cheek; - But I love it, I love it! and can not tear - My soul from a mother’s old arm-chair. - - - - - Grave of Bonaparte. - -Copied by permission of OLIVER DITSON & CO. 227 Washington St., -Boston, owners of the copyright. - - On a lone barren isle, where the wild roaring billow, - Assail the stern rock and the loud tempests rave, - The hero lies still, while the dew drooping willow, - Like fond weeping mourners lean’d over the grave; - The lightnings may flash and the loud thunders rattle, - He heeds not, he hears not, he’s free from all pain, - He sleeps his last sleep, he has fought his last battle, - No sound can awake him to glory again, - No sound can awake him to glory again. - - Yet spirit immortal, the tomb can not bind thee, - For like thine own eagle that soar’d to the sun, - Thou springest from bondage, and leavest behind thee - A name, which before thee no mortal had won. - Though nations may combat, and war’s thunders rattle, - No more on the steed wilt thou sweep o’er the plain, - Thou sleep’st thy last sleep, thou hast fought thy last battle, - No sound can awake thee to glory again, - No sound can awake thee to glory again. - - Oh, shade of the mighty, where now are the legions, - That rush’d but to conquer when thou led’st them on? - Alas! they have perish’d in far hilly regions, - And all save the fame of their triumph is gone. - The trumpet may sound, and the loud cannon rattle, - They heed not, they hear not, they’re free from all pain; - They sleep their last sleep, they have fought their last battle, - No sound can awake them to glory again, - No sound can awake them to glory again. - - - - - Whoop De Doodle Do. - - Simon had a son born, Whoop de doodle do; - Simon had a son born, Whoop de doodle do. - Simon had a son born, - You’d think she was a daughter-- - Yaller Sal de Georgia gal, - And de big bug in de water. - - CHORUS. - - What’s de matter Susan, what’s de matter, my dear? - What’s de matter Susan, I’m gwine ’way to leab you. - - India rubber overcoat, Whoop de doodle do; - India rubber overcoat, Whoop de doodle do. - India rubber overcoat, - Taffy candy shoes-- - Nigger on de Telegraph, - Reading up de news. - What’s de matter, Susan, &c. - - De ole mare she kick high, Whoop de doodle do; - De ole mare she kick high, Whoop de doodle do. - De ole mare she kick high, - De colt begin to prance-- - De ole sow whistle a jig, - For de pigs to dance. - What’s de matter Susan, &c. - - Nigger on de wood-pile, Whoop de doodle do; - Nigger on de wood-pile, Whoop de doodle do; - Nigger on de wood-pile, - Can’t count eleben-- - Put him in a fedder bed, - He think he’s gwine to heaben. - What’s de matter, Susan, &c. - - - - - Sourkrout and Sausages. - - I marry my frow--some childer I gets - As fat as little pigs, - Dey eat me out of my house un home - Un boterr me mit some rigs. - - CHORUS.--Sourkrout un Sausages-- - Schnapps un lager bier, - I wish I was home mit my frow, - As any place but here. - - My frow do noting but scold and scratch, - Un weare my breeches, too; - When I open my mouth she takes a stick - Un beats me black and blue. - Sourkrout un Sausages, etc. - - I live mit her as long as I can, - Den I runs away-- - To list for a soldier un Basastopole, - To fight for a shilling a day. - Sourkrout un Sausages, etc. - - De army is bad as tounge of my frow, - It is as worse by far-- - De Russias stick me if I goes on front - Un I’m killed if I go to de rear. - Sourkrout and Sausages, etc. - - All you men has got frows yus’e dake mine advice, - Un put up mit dere ire, - To list for a soldier is jumping out - Of de frying pan into the fire. - Sourkrout un Sausages, etc. - - - - - The Musical Wife. - - How I wish that my wife would not practice all day, - My head it is ready to split, - It snows, so I can not get out of her way, - But at home all the morning must sit. - How little I thought, when I first heard her sing, - And hung o’er her harp with delight, - The sorrows a musical partner might bring, - Who would practice from morning till night. - Oh! beware ye young men of a musical wife, - For Eliza’s fine voice is the plague of my life! - - “Eliza, my love, I’ve a letter to write - Pray cease for a moment, my dear,” - “Good heavens!” she cries, “you forget that to-night - Ned Seguin and Frazer’ll be here: - Anguera has promis’d to bring his Guitar, - Rametti will play on the Flute, - So I’m trying a second to ’Young Lochinvar,’ - Which Miss Stone will perform on her Lute!” - Oh! beware, young men, of a musical wife, - For Eliza’s fine voice is the plague of my life! - - Last week, in the Senate, on Tuesday’s debate, - We never divided till three, - When, tir’d and exhausted, I hurried home late, - How I long’d for a cup of green tea: - But, alas, neither tea nor repose could I get, - For Keyser, and Lange, were there, - And my wife was performing a fav’rite quartette, - So I went to the Club in despair, - Oh! beware, young men, of a musical wife, - For Eliza’s fine voice is the plague of my life! - - An office was vacant--the postmaster gave, - The place to my brother through me, - I was out--so the messenger carried his note - To Eliza--whilst singing a glee. - But, surrounded, alas! by her musical choir - My wife could not think of my brother; - So the luckless appointment was toss’d in the fire, - And the office--was given to _another_, - Oh! beware, young men, of a musical wife, - For Eliza’s fine voice is the plague of my life! - - Yet they tell me, alas! that I ought, to be blest, - In a wife with so perfect an ear-- - Deaf husbands!--Oh, knew ye the blessings of rest, - Ye would ne’er be so anxious to hear! - I, alas! have discover’d my folly too late-- - Take Warning by me whilst you can-- - When you hear a fine voice--Oh! remember my fate! - I’m a wretched--unfortunate man! - Oh! beware, young men, of a musical wife, - For Eliza’s fine voice is the plague of my life! - - - - - Sambo, I have Missed You. - - Oh, Sambo, is it you, dear, come down to see me now? - I heard you in the barn-yard hollering at the cow; - The pigs were squealing loudly, and the rusters they did crow, - For they knew that welcome footstep of Dinah’s lovely beau; - But the rusters stopp’d their crowing, and the pigs couldn’t squeal, - When at the feet of Dina this bewitching Sam did kneel. - - Your voice was like the night owl, sitting on the tree, - The echoes of that lovely voice were like the bumble bee, - Making music on my ear, like sticks on a drum; - Oh, Sambo, I have miss’d you, I thought you’d never come; - But my heart rejoiced once’t more, when I heard you again, - Oh, Sambo, I loved you, but I fear it is in vain. - - Oh, Dina, I have wrong’d you, I know I have proved unkind, - But now we’ve come together, love, we’ll just make up our mind; - I have thought of you in the field, when hoeing up the corn, - And often I have wish’d, love, that I was never born; - But the day is pass’d now, love, I know that it is gone, - To-morrow we will go to church, and there become one. - - - - - The Tail iv Me Coat. - - I larned me reading an’ writing, - At Ballyragget where I wint to school, - ’Twas there I first took to fighting, - With the schoolmaster Misther O’Toole; - He and I there had many a scrimmage, - The divil a copy I wrote, - But not a gossoon in the village, - Dare thread on the tail iv me coat. - - I an illigant hand was at courting, - For lessons I took in the art, - Till Cupid, that blaggard, while sporting, - A big arrow sint smack through me heart; - Miss O’Connor, I lived straight fornnist her, - And tindher lines to her I wrote, - Who dare say a black word against her, - Why I’d thread on the tail iv his coat. - - A bog-trotter wan, Mickey Mulvany, - He tried for to coax her away; - He had money an’ I hadn’t any, - So a challenge I sint him wan day; - Next morning we met at Killhealy, - The Shannon we cross’d in a boat, - There I lather’d him with me shillely, - For he trod on the tail iv me coat. - - Me fame spread through the nation, - Folks flock for to gaze upon me, - All cry out without hesitation, - “Och, yer a fightin’ man, Mickey Magee!” - I fought with the Finegan faction, - We bate all the Murphies afloat, - If inclined for a row or a ruction, - Why, I’d tread on the tail of their coat. - - - - - The Ivy Green. - - Oh! a dainty plant is the ivy green, - That creepeth o’er the ruins old; - Of right choice food are his meals I ween, - In his cell so lonely and cold. - The wall must be crumbled, the stone decay’d - To please his dainty whim; - And the mouldering dust that years have made, - Is a merry meal for him. - Creeping where no life is seen, - A rare old plant is the ivy green. - - Fast he stealeth on, though he wears no wings, - And a staunch old head hath he; - How closely he twineth--how tightly he clings - To his friend, the huge oak tree! - And slily he traileth along the ground, - And his leaves he gently waves, - As he joyously hugs, and crawleth round - The rich mould of dead men’s graves. - Creeping where grim death hath been, - A rare old plant is the ivy green. - - Whole ages have fled, and works decay’d, - And nations have scatter’d been; - But the stout old ivy shall never fade - From its hale and hearty green. - The brave old plant in its lonely days - Shall fatten on the past; - For the stateliest building man can raise, - Is the ivy’s food at last. - Creeping where grim death hath been, - A rare old plant is the ivy green. - - - - - Kind Relations. - - We all have our share of the ups and the downs, - Whatever our rank or station; - And he’s sure to get the most scoffs and frowns, - Who depends on his kind relations; - For it’s all very well once or twice to drop in, - To ask for a trifling favor, - But on the third time they are sure to begin, - To construe it to bad behaviour. - There’s your relations! kind relations! - There’s your kind relations! - - I speak from experience, and you’ll find, - Though often they invite you, - When poverty comes close behind, - How quick then they’ll slight you. - For it’s--“Clear the way--there’s a knock at the door-- - Say we’re gone out for a ride, John-- - I know who it is--it’s that hungry bore; - Don’t open the door too wide, John.” - - My goods were one day seized for rent-- - The broker took his station; - Pale and trembling, off I went - To try each kind relation. - Some hemm’d, some ha’d, and some looked cool, - With faces of grief and sorrow; - My twin-brother said he had made it a rule - Never to lend or borrow. - - I thought in my sister to find a friend, - But soon she undeceived me, - By saying--“These are not times too lend, - I would, if I could, relieve thee.” - “A trifle, dear sister, would keep me afloat, - I shall sink if you do not arrange it.” - She said she’d not less than a twenty-pound note, - And she couldn’t find time to change it. - - I lost my goods, but found that day-- - (Though ’gainst me they had sinned all)-- - Death summoned a rich old friend away, - Who left me a tidy windfall. - And then how they altered from what they’d just said, - Their cant, it was really provoking, - To hear them exclaim, as each hung down his head, - “Lord! Tom, we were only a joking.” - - Now, who in the world so blest as me, - With so many kind relations? - I am asked to dinner, to supper, to tea, - I’ve a hundred invitations! - But their crawling presents I daily return, - Their kindness to me they may scant it, - For I hate those cold hearts that would poverty scorn, - And give to those who don’t want it. - - - - - Och! Paddy, is it Yerself? - - Och, Pat, is it yerself indade, safe agin to home? - Sure, Bridget told a lie! faith, she said you wouldn’t come, - I heerd yerself a’ coming, and it made my dander rise, - ’Dade I knowed yer drunken footstep and yer rummy voice. - ’Twas sorrow to my ears in the avenin’s awful gloom-- - Och, Paddy, sure, tell me now, where did you get yer rum? - - We’s afraid yer would come nightly, but this night of all, - We let the fire go out, ’cause we’s going to the ball, - The childers wud set up till nine o’clock and past, - Till they wud say they knowed that their papa was lost, - An’ they hoped yer wud be sober when yer did get home, - Och, Patrick, tell me truly, where did you get yer rum? - - The days were glad without you, the nights were spent in revel, - And now you have come home, Pat, you drunken divil; - Last night I sung and danced by the moon’s gentle ray, - Till I thought I heerd yer voice, when I stopped right away; - But I soon resumed my sport when I found you had not come, - Och, Pat, yer drunken rowdy, why did yer come home? - - - - - The Gambler’s Wife. - - Dark is the night! how dark! no light--no fire! - Cold, on the hearth, the last faint sparks expire; - Shivering, she watches by the cradle side, - For him who pledged his love--last year a bride! - - Hark! ’tis his footstep!--No: ’tis past--’tis gone! - Tic! tic!--how wearily the time rolls on. - Why should he leave me thus? he once was kind, - And I believed ’twould last,--oh, how mad, how blind! - - Rest thee, my babe, rest on,--’tis hunger’s cry! - Sleep: for there is no food: the fount is dry! - Famine and cold their wearing work have done; - My heart must break--and thou, my child!--Hush! the clock strikes - one! - - Hush! ’tis the dice-box--yes! he’s there--he’s there! - For this he leaves me to despair; - Leaves love--leaves truth--his wife--his child--for what? - The gambler’s fancied bliss--the gambler’s horrid lot! - - Yet I’ll not curse him,--no: ’tis all in vain; - ’Tis long to wait, but sure he’ll come again; - And I could starve and bless him, but my child, for you,-- - Oh, fiend! oh, fiend!--Hush! the clock strikes two! - - Hark, how the sign-board creaks,--the blast howls by; - Moan, moan, ye winds, through the cloudy sky. - Ha! ’tis his knock! he comes, he comes once more; - No, ’tis but the lattice-flaps--my hope, my hope is o’er! - - Can he desert us thus? he knows I stay - Night after night, in loneliness to pray, - For his return, and yet he sees no tear; - No, no, it can not be, oh! he will be here; - - Nestle more closely, dear one, to my heart; - Thou art cold--thou art freezing!--but we will not part! - Husband! I die!--Father! it is not he, - Oh, God, protect my child!--Hush! the clock strikes three! - - They’re gone,--the glimmering spark hath fled! - The wife and child are number’d with the dead; - On the cold earth, outstretch’d in solemn rest, - The babe lies frozen on its mother’s breast; - The gambler comes at last, but all is o’er,-- - Dread silence reigns around,--the clock strikes four! - - - - - The Poor Little Fisherman’s Girl. - - It was down in the country a poor girl was weeping, - It was down in the country poor Mary Ann did mourn; - She belonged to this nation--I have lost each dear relation, - Cried a poor little fisherman’s girl, my friends are dead and - gone. - - Oh, who has a soft heart to give me some shelter, - For the winds do blow, and dreadful is the storm? - I have no father nor mother, but I’ve a tender brother, - Cried a poor little fisherman’s girl, my friends are dead and - gone. - - Oh, once I had enjoyment, my friends they reared me tender, - I passed with my brother each happy night and morn; - But death has made a slaughter, poor father’s in the water, - Cried a poor little fisherman’s girl, my friends are dead and - gone. - - So fast falls the snow, and I can’t find a shelter, - So fast falls the snow, I must hasten to the thorn, - For my covering the bushes, my bed is in green rushes, - Cried a poor little fisherman’s girl, my friends are dead and - gone. - - It happened as she passed by a very noble cottage, - A gentleman he heard her, his breast for her did burn, - Crying, Come in my lovely creature, he view’d each drooping feature, - You’re a poor little fisherman’s girl, whose friends are dead and - gone. - - He took her to the fire, and when he’d warmed and fed her, - The tears began to fall; he fell on her breast forlorn, - Crying, Live with me forever, we part again--no never, - You are my dearest sister--our friends are dead and gone. - - So now she’s got a home, she’s living with her brother, - Now she’s got a home, and the needy ne’er does scorn, - For God was her protector, likewise a kind conductor, - Of the poor little fisherman’s girl, when her friends are dead and - gone. - - - - - The Ocean Burial. - - “Oh, bury me not in the deep, deep sea,” - The words came low and mournfully, - From the pallid lips of a youth who lay - On his cabin couch at the close of day; - He had wasted and pined till o’er his brow - Death’s shade had slowly pass’d, and now - Where the land and his fond loved home were nigh, - They had gather’d around him to see him die. - - “Oh, bury me not in the deep, deep sea, - Where the billowing shroud will swell o’er me; - Where no light will break through the dark cold wave, - And no sunbeam rest upon my grave; - It matters not, I have often been told - Where the body shall lie when the heart is cold, - Yet grant, oh, grant this boon to me, - Oh, bury me not in the deep, deep sea. - - “For in fancy I’ve listen’d to the well-known words, - The free wild winds and the songs of the birds; - I have thought of home, of cot, and of bower, - And of scenes that I loved in childhood’s hour, - I had even hoped to be laid, when I died, - In the churchyard there on the green hill-side, - By the homes of my father my grave should be,-- - Oh, bury me not in the deep, deep sea. - - “Let my death slumbers be where a mother’s prayer, - And a sister’s tear shall be mingled there; - It will be sweet ere the heart’s gentle throb is o’er, - To know when its fountain shall gush no more, - That those it so fondly hath yearn’d for will come - To plant the first wild flower of spring on my tomb; - Let me lie where those loved ones will weep over me,-- - Oh, bury me not in the deep, deep sea. - - “And there is another whose tears would be shed - For him who lay far in an ocean bed; - In hours that it pains me to think of now, - She hath twined those locks and hath kiss’d this brow. - In the hair she hath wreathed shall the sea serpent hiss, - And the brow she hath press’d shall the cold wave kiss! - For the sake of that bright one, that waiteth for me, - Oh, bury me not in the deep, deep sea. - - “She hath been in my dreams”--His voice failed there, - They gave no heed to his dying prayer; - They have lower’d him low o’er the vessel side, - Above him has closed the dark cold tide. - Where to dip the light wings the sea-bird rests, - And the blue waves dance o’er the ocean crest, - Where the billows bound and the winds sport free, - They have buried him there in the deep, deep sea. - - - - - The Minute Gun at Sea. - - Let him who sighs in sadness hear, - Rejoice to know a friend is near! - What heavenly sounds are those I hear? - What being comes the gloom to cheer? - When in the storm on Columbia’s coast, - The night-watch guards his weary post, - From thoughts of danger free! - To mark some vessel’s dusky form, - And hears amid the howling storm, - The minute gun at sea! - - Swift on the shore a hardy few, - The life-boat man with a gallant crew, - And dare the dangerous wave! - Through the wild surf they cleave their way, - Lost in the foam, nor know dismay, - For they go the crew to save. - - But oh! what rapture fills each breast, - Of the hapless crew of the ship distress’d, - When landed safe what joys to tell, - Of all the dangers that befell; - Then is heard no more - By the watch on the shore, - The minute gun at sea. - - - - - The Irish Emigrant’s Lament. - - I’m sitting on the style, Mary, - Where we sat side by side, - On a bright May morning long ago, - When first you were my bride. - The corn was springing fresh and green, - And the lark sang loud and high, - And the red was on thy lip, Mary, - And the love-light in thine eye. - - The place is little changed, Mary, - The day is bright as then; - The lark’s loud song is in my ear, - And the corn is green again! - But I miss the soft clasp of your hand, - And your warm breath on my cheek, - And I still keep listening for the words - You never more may speak. - - ’Tis but a step down yonder lane, - And the little church stands near, - The church where we were wed, Mary; - I see the spire from here. - But the graveyard lies between, Mary, - And my step might break your rest; - For I’ve laid you, darling, down to sleep, - With your baby on your breast. - - I’m very lonely now, Mary, - For the poor make no new friends; - But O, they love them better far, - The few our Father sends! - And you were all I had, Mary, - My blessing and my pride; - There’s nothing left to care for now, - Since my poor Mary died. - - Yours was the brave, good heart, Mary, - That still kept hoping on, - When the trust in God had left my soul, - And my arm’s young strength had gone: - There was comfort ever on your lip, - And the kind look on your brow: - I bless you for that same, Mary, - Though you can’t hear me now. - - I thank you for that smile, Mary, - When your heart was fit to break; - When the hunger pain was gnawing there, - And you hid it, for my sake; - I bless you for the pleasant word, - When your heart was sad and sore; - O, I’m thankful you are gone, Mary, - Where grief can’t reach you more. - - I’m bidding you a long farewell, - My Mary, kind and true, - But I’ll not forget you, darling, - In the land I’m going to; - They say there’s bread and work for all, - And the sun shines always there, - But I’ll not forget old Ireland, - Were it fifty times as fair. - - And often in those grand old woods, - I’ll sit and shut my eyes, - And my heart will travel back again - To the place where Mary lies. - And I’ll think I see the little stile, - Where we sat side by side, - And the springing corn, and the bright May morn, - When first you were my bride. - - - - - In the Days when I was Hard Up. - - In the days when I was hard up, not many years ago, - I suffered that which only can the sons of misery know; - Relations, friends, companions, they all turned up their nose, - And they rated me a vagabond for want of better clothes. - - In the days when I was hard up, for want of food and fire, - I used to tie my shoes up with little bits of wire; - When hungry, cold, cast on a rock, and could not get a meal, - How oft I’ve beat the devil down for tempting me to steal. - - In the days when I was hard up, for furniture and drugs, - Many a summer’s night I’ve held communion with the bugs; - I never faced them with a pike, or smashed them on the wall, - I said the world was wide enough, there’s room enough for all. - - In the days when I was hard up, I used to lock my door, - For fear the landlady should say you can’t lodge here no more. - From my own back drawing-room, about ten feet by six, - In the work-house wall just opposite, I’ve counted all the bricks. - - In the days when I was hard up, I bowed my spirits down, - And often have I sought a friend to borrow half-a-crown; - How many are there in this world whose evils I can scan, - The shabby suit of toggery, but can not see the man. - - In the days when I was hard up, I found a blissful hope, - It’s all a poor man’s heritage to keep him from the rope; - Now I’ve found a good old maxim, and this shall be my plan, - Altho’ I wear a ragged coat, I’ll wear it like a man. - - - - - Nothing Else to Do. - -Copied by permission of RUSSELL & TOLMAN, 192 Washington St., Boston, -owners of the copyright. - - The summer is ended, the harvest is gone, - I’ve mowed all my meadows, I’ve housed all my corn; - And sweet Katie’s cottage stood fair to my view, - And so I went a courting, I’d nothing else to do. - Nothing else to do, - Nothing else to do, - And so I went a courting, - For I’d nothing else to do. - - I met my sweet Katie, and down we did sit, - And there we commenced a murmuring chat, - I told her I loved her, to try if she loved too, - I kiss’d her sweet lips, for I’d nothing else to do. - Nothing else to do, &c. - - Oh, down to yonder village we straight took our way, - We met Father Hagan so honest and gay; - I gave him his fees to make one of us two, - And so we got married, we’d nothing else to do. - Nothing else to do, &c. - - And now I’m married, and live in content, - And those I left behind me, I leave to lament; - I love my parents and friends, that is true, - And somebody else, when I’ve nothing else to do. - Nothing else to do, &c. - - ’Tis well to remember and bear in mind, - A constant companion is hard for to find; - And when you find one that is constant and true, - Cherish her even if you’ve something else to do. - Nothing else to do, &c. - - - - - The Lass that Loves a Sailor. - - The moon on the ocean was dimmed by a ripple, - Affording a checkered light. - The gay jolly tars passed the word for a tipple, - And the toast,--for ’twas Saturday night. - Some sweetheart or wife - He loved as his life, - Each drank, and he wished he could hail her; - But the standing toast, - That pleased the most, - Was the wind that blows, - The ship that goes, - And the lass that loves a sailor. - - Some drank his country, and some her brave ships, - And some the Constitution; - Some, may the French, and all such rips, - Yield to American resolution. - That fate might bless, - Some Poll or Bess, - And that they soon might hail her. - - Some drank the navy, and some our land, - This glorious land of freedom: - Some that our tars may never want, - Heroes brave to lead them; - That she who’s in distress may find - Such friends that ne’er will fail her. - But the standing toast, &c. - - - - - The Rat-catcher’s Daughter. - - Not long ago in Vestminster there lived a rat-catcher’s daughter, - And yet she didn’t live in Vestminster, ’cause she loved ’tother - side of the water, - Her father caught rats--and she sold sprats all about and around - that quarter, - And the gentle folks all took off their hats to the putty little - Rat-catcher’s daughter. - - CHORUS.--Doodle dee, - Doodle dum, - Di dum doodle da. - - Now, rich and poor, both far and near, in matrimony sought her: - But at friends and foes turn’d up her nose, did the putty little - Rat-catcher’s daughter. - For there was a man, sold lily vite sand, in Cupid’s net had - caught her, - And right over head and ears in love vent the putty little - Rat-catcher’s daughter. - - Now lily vite sand ran in her ’ead, as she went along Strand, oh, - She forgot as she’d got sprats on her ’ead and cried, D’ye you - want any lily vite sand, oh? - The folks amaz’d all thought her craz’d, as she went along the - Strand, oh, - To see a gal with sprats on her ’ead, cry, D’ye vant any lily - vhite sand, oh? - - Now Rat-catcher’s daughter so ran in his ’ead, he couldn’t tell - vat he vas arter, - So, instead of crying, D’ye vant any sand? he cried, D’ye vant any - Rat-catcher’s, daughter? - His donkey cock’d his ears and laughed, and couldn’t think vat he - vas arter, - Ven he heard his lady vite sandman cry, D’ye vant any - Rat-catcher’s daughter? - - They both agreed to married be upon next Easter Sunday, - But Rat-catcher’s daughter, she had a dream that she wouldn’t be - alive on Monday. - She vent vonce more to buy some sprats, and she tumbled into the - water, - And down to the bottom, all kiver’d with mud, vent the putty - little Rat-catcher’s daughter. - - Ven Lilly vite sand ’e ’eard the news, his eyes ran down with - vater, - Said ’e, In love I’ll constant prove, and--blow me if I’ll live - long arter. - So he cut ’is throat with a pane of glass, and stabb’d ’is donkey - arter - So ’ere is an end of lily vite sand, donkey, and the Rat-catcher’s - daughter. - - - - - Some Love to Drink. - - Some love to drink from the foamy brink, - Where the wine-drop’s dance they see, - But the water bright, in its silver light, - And a crystal cup for me. - - CHORUS.--Oh, water! bright water! - Pure, precious, free! - Yes, ’tis water bright in its silver light, - And a crystal cup for me. - - Oh, a goodly thing is the cooling spring, - ’Mong the rocks where the moss doth grow, - There’s health in the tide and there’s music beside, - In the brooklet’s bounding flow. - - Oh, water, bright water, &c. - - As pure as heaven is the water given, - ’Tis forever fresh and new; - Distilled in the sky, it comes from on high, - In the shower and the gentle dew. - - Oh, water, bright water, &c. - - Let them say ’tis weak, yet its strength I’ll seek, - For the worn rock owns its sway; - And we’re borne swift along by its wing so strong, - When it riseth to fly away. - - Oh, water, bright water, &c. - - There is strength in the glee of the mighty sea, - When the loud stormy wind doth blow; - And a fearful sight is the cataract’s might, - As it leaps to the depths below. - - Oh, water, bright water, &c. - - - - - Simon the Cellarer. - - Old Simon, the Cellarer, keeps a rare store - Of Malmsey and Malvoisie - And Cyprus, and who can say how many more! - For a chary old soul is he, - A chary old soul is he. - Of Sack and Canary he never doth fail, - And all the year round there is brewing of ale; - Yet he never aileth, he quaintly doth say, - While he keeps to his sober six flagons a day; - But ho! ho! ho! his nose doth show - How oft the black Jack to his lips doth go. - But ho! ho! ho! his nose doth show - How oft the black Jack to his lips doth go. - - Dame Margery sits in her own still room, - A matron sage is she; - From thence oft at Curfew is wafted a fume - She says it is “Rosemarie:” - She says it is “Rosemarie:” - But there’s a small cupboard behind the back stair, - And the maids say they often see Margery there. - Now Margery says that she grows very old, - “And must take a something to keep out the cold!” - But ho! ho! ho! old Simon doth know, - Where many a flask of his best doth go. - But ho! ho! ho! old Simon doth know, - Where many a flask of his best doth go. - - Old Simon reclines in his high-back’d chair, - And oft talks about taking a wife; - And Margery is often heard to declare: - “She ought to be settled in life!” - “She ought to be settled in life!” - But Margery has (so the maids say) a tongue, - And she’s not very handsome, and not very young; - So somehow it ends with a shake of the head, - And Simon he brews him a tankard instead; - While ho! ho! ho! he will chuckle and crow, - What! marry old Margery? no! no! no! - While ho! ho! ho! he will chuckle and crow, - What! marry old Margery? no! no! no! - - - - - Washington, Star of the West. - - There’s a Star in the West that will never go down, - Till the records of valor decay; - We must worship its light, for it is our own, - And liberty bursts in its ray. - Shall the name of Washington ever be heard - By a freeman, and thrill not his breast? - Is there one out of bondage that hails not the name - Of Washington, Star of the West? - - War! war to the knife--be enthrall’d or ye die! - Was the echo that waked up the land; - But it was not this frenzy that promoted the cry, - Nor rashness that kindled the brand. - He threw back the fetters, he headed the strife, - Till man’s charter was firmly restored; - Then he pray’d for the moment when liberty and life - Would no longer be pressed by the sword. - - Oh! his laurels were pure, and his patriotic name - In the pages of the future shall dwell, - And be seen in all annals, the foremost in fame, - By the side of a Hoffer and Tell. - Then cherish his memory, the brave and the good, - At Mount Vernon the hero now rests; - Peace, peace to his ashes, our father is dead! - Great Washington, Star of the West! - - - - - CONTENTS - OF - Beadle’s Dime Military Song Book - AND SONGS FOR THE WAR. - - A Dragoon Song, - A Good Time Coming, - A Hero of the Revolution, - A National Song, - A Soldier Lad my Love Shall be, - A Steed, a Steed of Matchless Speed, - All do Allow it, March where we may, - America, - Annie Laurie, - Auld Lang Syne, - Battle Hymn, Columns, Steady! - Bruce’s Address, - Burial of Sir John Moore, - Charge of the Light Brigade, - Hail Columbia, - Hail to the Chief, - Happy are we to-night, Boys, - Hohenlinden, - Hymn, - I’m Leaving Thee in Sorrow, Annie, - It is Great for Our Country to Die, - It is not on the Battle-field, - Light Sounds the Harp, - Mad Anthony Wayne, - Martial Elegy, - Merrily every Bosom Boundeth, - My Soldier Lad, - National Song, - Our Flag, - Peace be to those who Bleed, - Prelude--The American Flag, - Red, White and Blue, - Soldier’s Dirge, - Song, - Song for Invasion, - Song for the Fourth of July, - Star-Spangled Banner, - The American Boy, - The American Volunteer, - The Army and the Navy, - The Battle of Lexington, - The Dead at Buena Vista, - The Death of Napoleon, - The Dying Soldier to his Sword, - The Fallen Brave, - The Flag of our Union, - The Land of Washington, - The Marseilles Hymn, - The Mothers of our Forest Land, - The Myrtle and Steel, - The Origin of Yankee Doodle, - The Rataplan, - The Revolutionary Battle of Eutaw, - The Soldier’s Adieu, - The Soldier’s Dream, - The Soldier’s Farewell, - The Soldier’s Return, - The Soldier’s Wife, - The Sword Chant, - The Sword and the Staff, - The Sword of Bunker Hill, - The Triumph of Italian Freedom, - The Wounded Hussar, - Through Foemen Surrounding, - To the Memory of the Americans who bled at Eutaw Springs, - Uncle Sam’s Farm, - Unfurl the Glorious Banner, - Up! March Away, - War Song, - Warren’s Address, - Yankee Doodle. - - - - - CONTENTS - OF - Beadle’s Dime Union Song Book, - No. 1. - - A “Big Thing” Coming, - A Soleful Ballad, - All Hail to the Stars and Stripes, - America, - An Ode to Washington, - An Old Story with a New Moral, - Anthem, - Army Hymn, - A Yankee Ship and a Yankee Crew, - Banner Song, - Cairo, - Columbia Forever, - Columbia Rules the Sea, - Dixie’s Farms, - Dixie for the Union, - Eighty-five Years Ago, - Enfield Gun, - Freedom’s Light, - God Save our Native Land, - God Save the Union, - God Save the Volunteers, - Hail Columbia, - Heaven for the Right, - Her Own Brave Volunteer, - Hunting Song of the Chivalry, - Hurra for the Union, - Let Cowards Shrink, - Long Live the Great and Free, - March Away, Volunteers, - Marching, - March of the Loyal States, - My own Native Land, - On, Brothers, on, - One I left There, - Our Banner Chorus, - Our Country, - Our Country, Right or Wrong, - Our Flag, - Our Good Ship Sails To-night, - Our Union, Right or Wrong, - Our Whole Country, - Red, White and Blue, - Soldier’s Tent Song, - Song for Battle, - Stand by the Union, - Star-Spangled Banner, - Step to the Front, - The Banner of the Nation, - The Bold Zouaves, - The Dead of the Battle-field, - The Flag of our Union, - The Irish Brigade, - The Michigan “Dixie,” - The Northern Boys, - The Northmen’s Marseilles, - The Old Union Wagon, - The Original Yankee Doodle, - The Patriot Flag, - The Rock of Liberty, - The Southrons are Coming, - The Stripes and Stars, - The Sword of Bunker Hill, - The Union--It must be Preserved, - The Union, Young and Strong, - The Yankee Boy, - The Zouave Boys, - The Zouave’s Song, - To the Seventy-ninth, Highlanders, - Traitor, Beware our Flag, - Unfurl the Glorious Banner, - Viva l’America, - Yankees are Coming. - - - - - CONTENTS - OF - Beadle’s Dime Union Song Book, - No. 2. - - A Life in the Soldier’s Camp, - A Mother’s Hymn in Time of War, - A Soldier’s Dream of Home, - A Yankee Volunteer, - Away to the Fray, - Battle Invocation, - Beautiful Union, - Begone, Secesh, - Blue Jackets, Fall in, - Draw the Sword, Northland, - Drummer Boy of the National Greys, - “E Pluribus Unum,” - Flag Song, - Following the Drum, - Gathering Song, - Give us Room, - Hail Columbia, - Hark! to the Tread, - Hurrah for the Land we Love, - Liberty, - Mustering Chorus, - My Love he is a Zou-zu, - Our Country, Now and Ever, - Our Flag, - Rally, Boys! - Remember Traitors, - Rule, Columbia, - Song of the Zouaves, - Song of Union, - Stand by the Union, - Summons to the North, - Sweet is the Fight, - Sweet Maid of Erin, - The Alarum, - The Banner of Stars, - The Birth of our Banner, - The Brave and Free, - The Delaware Volunteers, - The Flag and the Union, - The Flag of the Brave, - The Flag of the Free, - The Great Union Club, - The “Mud-Sills” Greeting, - The Nation of the Free, - The Northmen are Coming, - The Northern Hurrah, - The Past and Present, - The Patriot’s Address, - The Patriot’s Serenade, - The Patriot’s Wish, - The Patriot Soldier, - The Star Flag, - The Star-Gemmed Flag, - The Star-Spangled Banner, - The Stripes and Stars, - The Union Gunning Match, - The Union Harvesting, - The Union Marseillaise, - The Union Sacrifice, - The Volunteer Yankee Doodle of ’61, - Three Cheers for our Banner, - Traitor, Spare that Flag, - Union Forever, - Victory’s Band, - Volunteer’s Song, - Where Liberty dwells there is my Country, - Wife of my Bosom, - Words of Sympathy. - - - - - CONTENTS - OF - Beadle’s Dime Song Book, - No. 1. - - All’s for the Best, - Annie Laurie, - A National Song, - Answer to a Thousand a Year, - Answer to Kate Kearney, - A Thousand a Year, - Belle Brandon, - Ben Bolt, - Blind Orphan Boy’s Lament, - Bob Ridley, - Bold Privateer, - Do They Miss me at Home? - Don’t be Angry, Mother, - Down the River, - E Pluribus Unum, - Evening Star, - Faded Flowers, - Gentle Annie, - Gentle Jenny Gray, - Glad to Get Home, - Hard Times, - Have You Seen my Sister, - Heather Dale, - Home Again, - I am not Angry, - I Want to Go Home, - Juney at the Gate, - Kate Kearney, - Kiss me Quick and Go, - Kitty Clyde, - Little Blacksmith, - My Home in Kentuck, - My Own Native Land, - Nelly Gray, - Nelly was a Lady, - Old Dog Tray, - Our Mary Ann, - Over the Mountain, - Poor Old Slave, - Red, White, and Blue, - Root, Hog, or Die, - Root, Hog, or Die, No. 2, - Root, Hog, or Die, No. 3, - Root, Hog, or Die, No. 4, - Row, Row, - Shells of the Ocean, - Song of the Sexton, - Star-Spangled Banner, - The Age of Progress, - The Dying Californian, - The Hills of New England, - The Lake-Side Shore, - The Miller of the Dee, - The Marseilles Hymn, - The Old Folks we Loved Long Ago, - The Old Farm-House, - The Old Play-Ground, - The Rock of Liberty, - The Sword of Bunker Hill, - The Tempest, - There’s a Good Time Coming, - Twenty Years Ago, - Twinkling Stars, - Uncle Sam’s Farm, - Unfurl the Glorious Banner, - Wait for the Wagon, - Willie, we have Miss’d You, - Willie’ll Roam no More. - - - - - CONTENTS - OF - Beadle’s Dime Song Book, - NO. 2. - - Alice Gray, - America, - Banks of the Old Mohawk, - Be Kind to Each Other, - Billy Grimes the Rover, - Bryan O’Lynn, - Come Sit Thee Down, - Cora Lee, - Crazy Jane, - Darling Nelly Moore, - Darling Old Stick, - Fireman’s Victory, - Good News from Home, - Good-Night, - Grave of Lilly Dale, - Graves of a Household, - Home, Sweet Home, - I have no Mother Now, - I’m leaving Thee in Sorrow, Annie, - I miss Thee so, - I Shouldn’t like to Tell, - I Wandered by the Brook-Side, - Katy Darling, - Kathleen Mavourneen, - Little Katy; or, Hot Corn, - Mary of the Wild Moor, - Mable Clare, - Mary Alleen, - Mill May, - Minnie Moore, - Minnie Dear, - Mrs. Lofty and I, - Mr. Finagan, - My Eye and Betty Martin, - My Love is a Saileur Boy, - My Mother Dear, - My Grandmother’s Advice, - My Mother’s Bible, - New England, - Oh! I’m Going Home, - Oh! Scorn not thy Brother, - O! the Sea, the Sea, - Old Sideling Hill, - Our Boyhood Days, - Our Father Land, - Peter Gray, - Rory O’More, - Somebody’s waiting for Somebody, - The Farmer Sat in his Easy Chair, - The Farmer’s Boy, - The Irishman’s Shanty, - The Old Folks are Gone, - The Post-Boy’s Song, - The Quilting Party, - Three Bells, - ’Tis Home where the Heart is, - Waiting for the May, - We Stand Here United, - What other Name than Thine, Mother? - Where the Bright Waves are Dashing, - What is Home without a Mother, - Widow Machree, - Willie’s on the Dark Blue Sea, - Winter--Sleigh-Bell Song, - Nancy Bell; or, Old Pine Tree. - - - - - CONTENTS - OF - Beadle’s Dime Song Book, - NO. 3. - - Annie, Dear, Good-by, - A Sailor’s Life for Me, - Bessy was a Sailor’s Bride, - Bonny Jean, - Comic Katy Darling, - Comic Parody, - Darling Jenny Bell, - Darling Rosabel, - Death of Annie Laurie, - Ettie May, - Few Days, - Give ’em String and let ’em Went, - Go it while You’re Young, - Hail Columbia, - Happy Hezekiah, - I’d Choose to be a Daisy, - I have Something Sweet to Tell You, - Isle of Beauty, - I Think of Old Ireland whereever I Go, - Jeannette and Jeannot, - John Jones, - Jordan is a Hard Road to Travel, - Kitty Kimo, - Lather and Shave, - Lager Bier Song, - Linda has Departed, - Lillie Bell, - Love Not, - Man the Life-Boat, - My Dear Old Mother, - My Girl with a Calico Dress, - My Heart’s in Old Ireland, - My Poor Dog Tray, - Old Rosin the Bow, - Over the Left, - Old Dog Tray, No. 2. - Parody on the West, - Pop Goes the Weasel, - Pretty Jane, - Rosa Lee, - Song of the Locomotive, - Sparking Sarah Jane, - The American Girl, - The American Boy, - The Boys of Kilkenny, - The Emigrant’s Farewell, - The Fine Old English Gentleman, - The Fine Old Irish Gentleman, - The Fine Old Dutchman, - The Fireman’s Death, - The Fireman’s Boy, - The Girl I Left behind Me, - The Gold-Digger’s Lament, - The Indian Hunter, - The Old Oaken Bucket, - The Old Whiskey Jug, - The Other Side of Jordan, - The Pirate’s Serenade, - The Yellow Rose of Texas, - Ten O’Clock, or, Remember, Love, Remember, - Tilda Horn, - True Blue, - To the West, - Uncle Ned, - Unhappy Jeremiah, - Vilkins and his Dinah, - We Miss Thee at Home, - What Will Mrs. Grundy Say? - Woodman, Spare that Tree. - - - - - CONTENTS - OF - Beadle’s Dime Song Book, - No. 4. - - Ain’t I Glad to get out of the Wilderness, - A National Song, - Answer to Katy Darling, - A Merry Gipsy Girl again, - A Parody on “Uncle Sam’s Farm,” - Ben Fisher and Wife, - Bonnie Jamie, - Broken-Hearted Tom, the Lover, - By the Sad Sea-Waves, - Columbia Rules the Sea, - Come, Gang awa’ wi’ Me, - Commence you Darkies all, - Cottage by the Sea, - Daylight is on the Sea, - Don’t you cry so, Norah, Darling, - Erin is my Home, - Gal from the South, - He Led Her to the Altar, - Home, Sweet Home, - I am a Freeman, - I’ll hang my Harp on a Willow-Tree, - I’m not Myself at all, - Indian Hunter, - I’ve been Roaming o’er the Prairie, - I Wish He would Decide, Mamma, - Jane Monroe, - Johnny is Gone for a Soldier, - Jolly Jack the Rover, - Kate was once a little Girl, - Kitty Tyrrel, - Let Me Kiss Him for his Mother, - Linda’s Gone to Baltimore, - Maud Adair, and I, - Molly Bawn, - My ain Fireside, - My Boyhood’s Home, - Nora, the Pride of Kildare, - O, God! Preserve the Mariner, - Oh, Kiss, but never tell, - Old Uncle Edward, - Paddy on the Canal, - Poor old Maids, - Ship A-Hoy! - Somebody’s Courting Somebody, - Song of the Farmer, - Song of Blanche Alpen, - Sparking Sunday Night, - Sprig of Shilleleh, - Stand by the Flag, - The Farmer’s Boy, - The Hazel Dell, - The Harp that once Through Tara’s Hall, - The Indian Warrior’s Grave, - The Little Low Room where I Courted my Wife, - The Low Backed Car, - The Old Brown Cot, - The Old Kirk-Yard, - The Railroad Engineer’s Song, - They don’t wish Me at Home, - Tom Brown, - Terry O’Reilly, - Uncle Gabriel, - Uncle Tim the Toper, - We were Boys and Girls together, - We are Growing Old together, - We are all so Fond of Kissing, - Where are now the Hopes I Cherished? - Within a Mile of Edinburgh Town, - Would I were a Boy again, - Would I were a Girl again, - Would I were with Thee. - - - - - CONTENTS - OF - Beadle’s Dime Song Book, - NO. 6. - - Annie Lisle, - Beautiful World, - Be Kind to the Loved Ones, - Bobbin’ Around, - Bonnie Dundee, - Courting in Connecticut, - Dearest Mae, - Dear Mother, I’ll Come again, - Ella Ree, - Fairy Dell, - Far, far upon the Sea, - Gentle Hallie, - Gentle Nettie Moore, - Happy are we To-night, - Hattie Lee, - He Doeth All Things Well, - I can not Call her Mother, - I’ll Paddle my own Canoe, - I’m Standing by thy Grave, Mother, - Is it Anybody’s Business? - Jane O’Malley, - Jenny Lane, - Joanna Snow, - Johnny Sands, - Lilly Dale, - Little more Cider, - Lulu is our Darling Pride, - Marion Lee, - Meet me by the Running Brook, - Minnie Clyde, - Not for Gold, - Not Married Yet, - Oh, carry me Home to Die, - Oh! Silber Shining Moon, - Oh! Spare the Old Homestead, - Old Homestead, - Ossian’s Serenade, - Over the River, - Riding on a Rail, - Sailor Boy’s Last Dream, - “Say Yes, Pussy,” - Spirit Voice of Belle Brandon, - Squire Jones’s Daughter, - The Bloom is on the Rye, - The Blue Junietta, - The Carrier Dove, - The Child’s Wish, - The Cottage of my Mother, - The Female Auctioneer, - The Irish Jaunting Car, - The Lords of Creation shall Woman obey, - The Maniac, - The Merry Sleigh-Ride, - The Miller’s Maid, - The Modern Belle, - The Mountaineer’s Farewell, - The Old Mountain Tree, - The Strawberry Girl, - The Snow Storm, - The Song my Mother used to Sing, - Three Grains of Corn, - Washington’s Grave, - What is Home without a Sister, - Where are the Friends? - Why Chime the Bells so Merrily? - Why don’t the Men propose? - Will Nobody Marry Me? - Young Recruit. - - - - - HAND-BOOKS FOR HOUSEKEEPERS. - - BEADLE’S DIME COOK-BOOK, - BEADLE’S DIME RECIPE-BOOK, - BEADLE’S DIME DRESS-MAKER AND MILLINER, - BEADLE’S DIME BOOK OF ETIQUETTE, - BEADLE’S DIME FAMILY PHYSICIAN. - -The COOK-BOOK embraces Recipes, Directions, Rules and Facts relating -to every department of Housekeeping. - -The RECIPE-BOOK is a perfect treasure house of knowledge, for the -kitchen, parlor, nursery, sick-room, the toilet, &c., &c. - -The BOOK OF ETIQUETTE can truly be called a useful work. It embodies -all the information necessary to “post” the reader, old or young, male -or female, upon every point of etiquette or social usage. - -The FAMILY PHYSICIAN is an invaluable hand-book for the family and an -indispensable aid to the thrifty housewife. - - - BOOKS FOR THE SCHOOL AND HOME STUDENTS. - - BEADLE’S DIME SPEAKER Nos. 1 & 2, - BEADLE’S DIME DIALOGUES Nos. 1 & 2, - BEADLE’S DIME SCHOOL MELODIST, - BEADLE’S DIME LETTER-WRITER. - -This series of educational works is designed to meet the wants of -every school, public or private--every scholar, male or female, in our -country. - - - MUSIC AND SONG. - - Beadle’s Dime Song Books, No’s 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6 & 7 - - BEADLE’S DIME MILITARY SONG BOOK, - BEADLE’S DIME MELODIST--WORDS AND MUSIC. - - - GAMES, AMUSEMENTS, &C. - - BEADLE’S DIME BASE-BALL PLAYER, - BEADLE’S DIME GUIDE TO CRICKET, - BEADLE’S DIME GUIDE TO SWIMMING, - BEADLE’S DIME BOOK OF DREAMS, - BEADLE’S DIME BOOK OF FUN, Nos. 1 & 2, - BEADLE’S DIME CHESS INSTRUCTOR. - - - BEADLE’S DIME BIOGRAPHICAL LIBRARY. - - No. 1.--GARIBALDI: THE WASHINGTON OF ITALY. - No. 2.--DANIEL BOONE: THE HUNTER OF KENTUCKY. - No. 3.--KIT CARSON: THE ROCKY MOUNTAIN SCOUT AND GUIDE. - No. 4.--MAJOR-GENERAL ANTHONY WAYNE: THE REVOLUTIONARY PATRIOT - AND INDIAN CONQUEROR. - No. 5.--COL. DAVID CROCKETT: AND HIS ADVENTURES. - No. 6.--JOHN PAUL JONES: THE NAVAL HERO OF ’76. - - - - -HAVE YOU A FRIEND IN THE ARMY? - -Send Him The Military Hand-Book. - - -The great want of a MILITARY HAND-BOOK of General and Special -Information on all matters connected with a Soldier’s Life and -Experience, has induced the publishers of the Dime Publications to -have prepared, by competent hands, a work which will fully answer the -requirements of the market. They have, therefore, to announce - - THE - - MILITARY HAND-BOOK, - - AND - - SOLDIERS’ MANUAL OF INFORMATION. - - Embracing Pay-Lists of Officers and Men--Rations-- - Incidents of Camp-Life--Hints on Health and - Comfort--How to Prepare Good Food from - Poor Rations--Recipes--Wounds, and - How to Care for Them--All about - Weapons of War, etc.; also - - Official Articles of War, - - AND A COMPLETE - - DICTIONARY OF MILITARY TERMS. - -☞ This admirable volume is published in large 12mo., with a -beautifully Engraved and Colored Cover, and can be had of all News -Dealers at the low sum of TWENTY-FIVE CENTS. - - BEADLE AND COMPANY, Publishers, - 141 William St., New York. - - - - -Transcriber’s Note - -Obsolete words, alternative spelling and dialect were not changed. -Unprinted letters and punctuation were added, as necessary. Quotation -marks were adjusted, where necessary. The first three entries to the -contents of Union Songbook No. 1 are missing letters in the original. -The last entry to contents of Dime Song Book No. 2 is out of -alphabetical order in the original. - -Obvious printing errors were corrected, such as duplicate words and -letters, upside down letters, and letters or spacing in the wrong -order. Other changes: - - ‘breath’ to ‘breathe’ in ‘Thou art gone from my Gaze’ - ‘snaw’ to ‘snow’ in ‘John Anderson, My Jo, John’ - ‘voie’ to ‘voice’ last line in ‘The Musical Wife’ - ‘shahowy’ to ‘shadowy’ in ‘the Grave of Uncle True’ - ‘BAEDLE’S’ to ‘BEADLE’S’ in the advertisement at the end of the book - - - - - -End of Project Gutenberg's Beadle's Dime Song Book No. 5, by Various - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK BEADLE'S DIME SONG BOOK NO. 5 *** - -***** This file should be named 50878-0.txt or 50878-0.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/5/0/8/7/50878/ - -Produced by David Edwards, Carol Brown, and the Online -Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This -file was produced from images generously made available -by The Internet Archive) - - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United -States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. 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