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-The Project Gutenberg eBook of Old Songs, 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
-will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before
-using this eBook.
-
-Title: Old Songs
-
-Author: Various
-
-Illustrators: Alfred Parsons
-              Edwin Austin Abbey
-
-Contributors: George Wither
-              Edmond Spenser
-
-Release Date: January 15, 2022 [eBook #67167]
-
-Language: English
-
-Produced by: Chuck Greif and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at
-             http://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from images
-             available at The Internet Archive)
-
-*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK OLD SONGS ***
-
-
-
-
-
-                               OLD SONGS
-
-                            [Illustration]
-
-
-
-
-                               OLD SONGS
-
-                           WITH DRAWINGS BY
-                            EDWIN A · ABBEY
-                           & ALFRED PARSONS
-
-               NEW YORK · HARPER & BROTHERS · PRINTERS &
-             PUBLISHERS · FRANKLIN SQUARE · M DCCC LXXXIX
-
-                         _COPYRIGHT, 1888, BY_
-
-                         _HARPER & BROTHERS_.
-
-                        _All Rights Reserved._
-
-
-
-
-[Illustration: Contents]
-
-
-                                                                  _PAGE_
-
-_A Love Song_                                                        _1_
-
-“_Why canst Thou not, as Others do_”                                _15_
-
-“_With Jockey to the Fair_”                                         _19_
-
-“_Sweet Nelly, my Heart’s Delight_”                                 _27_
-
-“_What hap had I to Marry a Shrow_”                                 _33_
-
-_The Leather Bottèl_                                                _37_
-
-_Never Love Thee More_                                              _49_
-
-“_Here’s to the Maiden of Bashful Fifteen_”                         _53_
-
-_Barbara Allen_                                                     _57_
-
-_Perigot and Cuddy’s Roundelay_                                     _67_
-
-_Sally in Our Alley_                                                _73_
-
-“_Early One Morning_”                                               _85_
-
-_Kitty of Coleraine_                                                _89_
-
-_Old King Cole_                                                     _97_
-
-_Harvest Home_                                                     _101_
-
-_Down in Cupid’s Garden_                                           _107_
-
-_Phillada Flouts Me_                                               _111_
-
-[Illustration]
-
-[Illustration: A LOVE SONG]
-
-[Illustration]
-
-[Illustration]
-
-
-
-
-_A LOVE SONG._
-
-BY GEORGE WITHER.
-
-
-    I lov’d a lasse, a faire one,
-      As faire as e’er was seene;
-    She was, indeed, a rare one,
-      Another Sheba queen;
-
-    But, foole, as then I was,
-      I thought she lov’d me too;
-    But, now, alasse! sh’as left me,
-      _Falero, lero, loo_.
-
-    Her haire, like gold, did glister;
-      Each eye was like a starre;
-    She did surpasse her sister,
-      Which past all others farre:
-
-[Illustration]
-
-    She would me hony call:
-      She’d, oh, she’d kisse me too!
-    But, now, alasse! sh’as left me,
-      _Falero, lero, loo_.
-
-[Illustration]
-
-    In summer-time, to Medley
-      My love and I would goe--
-    The boatmen there stood readie
-      My love and I to rowe;
-    For creame there would we call,
-      For cakes, and for prunes too;
-    But, now, alasse! sh’as left me,
-      _Falero, lero, loo_.
-
-[Illustration]
-
-    Many a merry meeting
-      My love and I have had:
-    She was my onely sweeting;
-      She made my heart full glad:
-    The teares stood in her eyes,
-      Like to the morning-dew;
-    But, now, alasse! sh’as left me,
-      _Falero, lero, loo_.
-
-    And as abroad we walked,
-      As lovers’ fashion is,
-    Oft, as we sweetly talked,
-      The sun would steale a kisse;
-    The winde upon her lips
-      Likewise most sweetly blew;
-    But, now, alasse! sh’as left me,
-      _Falero, lero, loo_.
-
-    Her cheekes were like the cherrie,
-      Her skin as white as snow;
-    When she was blyth and merrie,
-      She angel-like did show;
-    Her wast exceeding small,
-      The fives did fit her shoo;
-    But, now, alasse! sh’as left me,
-      _Falero, lero, loo_.
-
-    In summer-time or winter
-      She had her heart’s desire;
-    I stil did scorne to stint her
-      From sugar, sacke, or fire:
-    The world went round about;
-      No cares we ever knew;
-    But, now, alasse! sh’as left me,
-      _Falero, lero, loo_.
-
-[Illustration]
-
-    As we walked home together,
-      At midnight, through the towne,
-    To keepe away the weather,
-      O’re her I’d cast my gowne;
-    No colde my love should feele,
-      Whate’er the heavens could doe;
-    But, now, alasse! sh’as left me,
-      _Falero, lero, loo_.
-
-[Illustration]
-
-    Like doves we would be billing,
-      And clip and kisse so fast,
-    Yet she would be unwilling
-      That I should kisse the last:
-    They’re Judas kisses now,
-      Since that they prov’d untrue;
-    For, now, alasse! sh’as left me,
-      _Falero, lero, loo_.
-
-[Illustration]
-
-    To maidens’ vowes and swearing
-      Henceforth no credit give;
-    You may give them the hearing,
-      But never them beleeve:
-    They are as false as faire,
-      Unconstant, fraile, untrue;
-    For mine, alasse! hath left me,
-      _Falero, lero, loo_.
-
-    ’Twas I that paid for all things,
-      ’Twas others dranke the wine;
-    I cannot now recall things,
-      Live but a foole to pine:
-    ’Twas I that beat the bush,
-      The bird to others flew;
-    For she, alasse! hath left me,
-      _Falero, lero, loo_.
-
-    If ever that Dame Nature,
-      For this false lover’s sake,
-    Another pleasing creature
-      Like unto her would make,
-    Let her remember this,
-      To make the other true;
-    For this, alasse! hath left me,
-      _Falero, lero, loo_.
-
-    No riches, now, can raise me,
-      No want make me despaire,
-    No miserie amaze me,
-      Nor yet for want I care:
-
-[Illustration]
-
-    I have lost a world it selfe.
-      My earthly heaven, adue!
-    Since she, alasse! hath left me,
-      _Falero, lero, loo_.
-
-[Illustration]
-
-[Illustration]
-
-[Illustration: “Why canst Thou not as Others do”]
-
-
-
-
-“_WHY CANST THOU NOT, AS OTHERS DO?_”
-
-
-    Why canst thou not, as others do,
-      Look on me with unwounding eyes?
-    And yet look sweet, but yet not so,
-      Smile, but not in killing wise;
-    Arm not thy graces to confound;
-    Only look, but do not wound.
-
-    Why should mine eyes see more in you
-      Than they can see in all the rest?
-    For I can others’ beauties view,
-      And not find my heart opprest.
-    O be as others are to me,
-    Or let me be more to thee.
-
-[Illustration]
-
-[Illustration]
-
-[Illustration: “_With Jockey to the Fair_”]
-
-
-
-
-“_WITH JOCKEY TO THE FAIR._”
-
-
-    Twas on the morn of sweet May-day,
-    When nature painted all things gay--
-    Taught birds to sing and lambs to play
-          And deck’d the meadows fair--
-    Young Jockey early in the morn
-    Arose and tripped it o’er the lawn.
-    His Sunday coat the youth put on;
-    For Jenny had vowed away to run
-          With Jockey to the fair.
-
-    The cheerful parish bells had rung.
-    With eager steps he trudg’d along;
-    Sweet flowing garlands round him hung,
-          Which shepherds us’d to wear.
-    He tapp’d the window. “Hush, my dear!”
-    Jenny, impatient, cried, “Who’s there?”
-    “’Tis I, my love, and no one near.
-    Step gently down, you’ve naught to fear
-          With Jockey to the fair.”
-
-[Illustration]
-
-[Illustration]
-
-    “My dad and mammy ’re fast asleep.
-    My brother up and with the sheep.
-    And will you still your promise keep,
-          Which I have heard you swear?
-    And will you ever constant prove?”
-    “I will, by all the pow’rs above!
-    And ne’er deceive my charming dove.
-    Dispel those doubts, and haste, my love,
-          With Jockey to the fair.”
-
-    “Behold the ring!” the shepherd cried.
-    “Will Jenny be my charming bride?
-    Let Cupid be our happy guide,
-          And Hymen meet us there.”
-    Then Jockey did his vows renew--
-    He would be constant, would be true.
-    His word was pledged, away she flew,
-    With cowslips sparkling with the dew,
-          With Jockey to the fair.
-
-    Soon did they meet a joyful throng.
-    Their gay companions, blithe and young,
-    Each joins the dance, each joins the song
-          To hail the happy pair.
-    What two were e’er so fond as they?
-    All bless the kind propitious day--
-    The smiling morn, the blooming May,
-    When lovely Jenny ran away
-          With Jockey to the fair.
-
-[Illustration]
-
-[Illustration]
-
-[Illustration]
-
-[Illustration: “_Sweet Nelly my Heart’s Delight._”]
-
-[Illustration]
-
-[Illustration]
-
-
-
-
-“_SWEET NELLY, MY HEART’S DELIGHT._”
-
-
-    HE. Sweet Nelly, my heart’s delight,
-          Be loving, and do not slight
-                The proffer I make
-                For modesty’s sake.
-          I honor your beauty bright;
-                For love I profess,
-                I can do no less.
-          Thou hast my favor won.
-                And since I see
-                Your modesty,
-                I pray you agree,
-                And fancy me,
-          Though I’m but a farmer’s son.
-
-    SHE. No; I am a lady gay;
-          It is very well known I may
-                Have men of renown
-                In country or town.
-          So, Roger, without delay
-                Court Bridget, or Sue,
-                Kate, Nancy, or Prue;
-          Their loves will soon be won;
-                But don’t you dare
-                To speak me fair,
-                As if I were
-                At my last pray’r
-          To marry a farmer’s son.
-
-    HE. My father has riches in store,
-          Two hundred a year and more,
-                Besides sheep and cows,
-                Carts, harrows, and ploughs
-          His age is above threescore,
-                And when he does die,
-                Then merrily I
-          Shall have what he has won.
-                Both land and kine,
-                All shall be thine,
-                If thou’lt incline,
-                And will be mine,
-          And marry a farmer’s son.
-
-    SHE. A fig for your cattle and corn!
-          Your proffered love I scorn.
-                ’Tis known very well
-                My name it is Nell,
-          And you’re but a bumpkin born.
-
-[Illustration]
-
-    HE. Well, since it is so,
-                Away I will go,
-          And I hope no harm is done.
-                Farewell! adieu!
-                I hope to woo
-                As good as you,
-                And win her too,
-          Though I’m but a farmer’s son.
-
-    SHE. Be not in such haste, quoth she;
-          Perhaps we may still agree,
-                For, man, I protest
-                I was but in jest;
-          Come, prithee, sit down by me.
-                For thou art the man
-                That verily can
-          Win me if e’er I’m won.
-                Both straight and tall,
-                Genteel withal,
-                Therefore I shall
-                Be at your call
-          To marry a farmer’s son.
-
-    HE. Dear Nelly, believe me now,
-          I solemnly swear and vow
-                No lords in their lives
-                Take pleasure in wives
-          Like we that do drive the plough.
-                Whatever we gain
-                With labor or pain,
-          We don’t after wantons run,
-                As courtiers do.
-                And I never knew
-                A London beau
-                That could outdo
-          A country farmer’s son.
-
-[Illustration: “What hap had I to marry a Shrow”]
-
-
-
-
-“_WHAT HAP HAD I TO MARRY A SHROW!_”
-
-
-    What hap had I to marry a shrow!
-    For she hath given me many a blow,
-    And how to please her, alack! I do not know.
-
-    From morn to even her tongue ne’er lies;
-    Sometimes she brawls, sometimes she cries;
-    Yet I can scarce keep her talents from mine eyes.
-
-    If I go abroad and late come in,
-    “Sir Knave,” saith she, “where have you been?”
-    And do I well or ill, she claps me on the skin.
-
-[Illustration]
-
-[Illustration]
-
-[Illustration: THE LEATHER BOTTÈL]
-
-
-
-
-_THE LEATHER BOTTÈL._
-
-
-    ’Twas God above that made all things,
-          The heav’ns, the earth, and all therein,
-          The ships that on the sea do swim
-          To guard from foes that none come in;
-    And let them all do what they can,
-    ’Twas for one end--the use of man.
-          So I wish in heav’n his soul may dwell
-          That first found out the leather bottèl.
-
-    Now, what do you say to these cans of wood?
-    Oh no, in faith they cannot be good;
-    For if the bearer fall by the way,
-    Why, on the ground your liquor doth lay;
-    But had it been in a leather bottèl,
-    Although he had fallen all had been well.
-          _So I wish in heav’n_, etc.
-
-[Illustration]
-
-    Then what do you say to these glasses fine?
-    Oh, they shall have no praise of mine,
-    For if you chance to touch the brim,
-    Down falls the liquor and all therein;
-    But had it been in a leather bottèl,
-    And the stoppel in, all had been well.
-          _So I wish in heav’n_, etc.
-
-[Illustration]
-
-[Illustration]
-
-[Illustration]
-
-    Then what do you say to these black pots three?
-    If a man and his wife should not agree,
-    Why, they’ll tug and pull till their liquor doth spill;
-    In a leather bottèl they may tug their fill,
-    And pull away till their hearts do ake,
-    And yet their liquor no harm can take.
-          _So I wish in heav’n_, etc.
-
-[Illustration]
-
-    Then what do you say to these flagons fine?
-    Oh, they shall have no praise of mine,
-    For when a Lord is about to dine,
-    And sends them to be filled with wine,
-    The man with the flagon doth run away,
-    Because it is silver most gallant and gay.
-          _So I wish in heav’n_, etc.
-
-    A leather bottèl we know is good,
-    Far better than glasses or cans of wood,
-    For when a man’s at work in the field,
-    Your glasses and pots no comfort will yield;
-    But a good leather bottle standing by
-    Will raise his spirits whenever he’s dry.
-          _So I wish in heav’n_, etc.
-
-    At noon, the haymakers sit them down,
-    To drink from their bottles of ale nut-brown;
-    In summer, too, when the weather is warm,
-    A good bottle full will do them no harm.
-    Then the lads and the lasses begin to tottle,
-    But what would they do without this bottle?
-          _So I wish in heav’n_, etc.
-
-    There’s never a Lord, an Earl, or Knight,
-    But in this bottle doth take delight;
-    For when he’s hunting of the deer,
-    He oft doth wish for a bottle of beer.
-    Likewise the man that works in the wood,
-    A bottle of beer will oft do him good.
-          _So I wish in heav’n_, etc.
-
-[Illustration]
-
-[Illustration]
-
-    And when the bottle at last grows old,
-    And will good liquor no longer hold,
-    Out of the side you may take a clout,
-    To mend your shoes when they’re worn out;
-    Or take and hang it up on a pin,
-    ’Twill serve to put hinges and odd things in.
-          _So I wish in heav’n_, etc.
-
-[Illustration]
-
-[Illustration]
-
-[Illustration: _NEVER LOVE THEE MORE_]
-
-
-
-
-_NEVER LOVE THEE MORE._
-
-
-    My dear and only love, take heed
-      How thou thyself expose
-    By letting longing lovers feed
-      Upon such looks as those.
-    I’ll marble-wall thee round about,
-      And build without a door;
-    But if thy heart do once break out,
-      I’ll never love thee more.
-
-    Let not their oaths, by volleys shot,
-      Make any breach at all,
-    Nor smoothness of their language plot
-      A way to scale the wall;
-    No balls of wildfire love consume
-      The shrine which I adore;
-    For if such smoke about it fume,
-      I’ll never love thee more.
-
-[Illustration]
-
-    Then if by fraud or by consent
-      To ruin thou shouldst come,
-    I’ll sound no trouble as of wont,
-      Nor march by beat of drum,
-    But fold my arms, like ensigns, up,
-      Thy falsehood to deplore,
-    And after such a bitter cup
-      I’ll never love thee more.
-
-[Illustration]
-
-[Illustration: “Here’s to the Maiden of Bashful Fifteen”]
-
-
-
-
-“_HERE’S TO THE MAIDEN OF BASHFUL FIFTEEN._”
-
-
-    Here’s to the maiden of bashful fifteen,
-      Now to the widow of fifty;
-    Here’s to the flaunting extravagant quean,
-      And here’s to the housewife that’s thrifty.
-        Let the toast pass,
-        Drink to the lass;
-        I warrant she’ll prove
-        An excuse for the glass.
-
-    Here’s to the charmer whose dimples we prize,
-      Now to the damsel with none, sir;
-    Here’s to the girl with a pair of blue eyes,
-      And now to the nymph with but one, sir.
-              _Let the toast_, etc.
-
-    Here’s to the maid with a bosom of snow,
-      Now to her that’s as brown as a berry;
-    Here’s to the wife with a face full of woe,
-      And now to the damsel that’s merry.
-              _Let the toast_, etc.
-
-[Illustration]
-
-    For let her be clumsy or let her be slim,
-      Young or ancient, I care not a feather;
-    So fill up a bumper, nay, fill to the brim,
-      And let us e’en toast ’em together.
-              _Let the toast_, etc.
-
-[Illustration]
-
-[Illustration: BARBARA ALLEN]
-
-[Illustration]
-
-
-
-
-_BARBARA ALLEN._
-
-
-    All in the merry Month of May,
-      when green leaves they was springing,
-    This young man on his Death-bed lay,
-      for the love of _Barbara Allen_.
-
-    He sent his man unto her then,
-      in the Town where she was dwelling:
-    You must come to my Master dear,
-      if your name be _Barbara Allen_.
-
-    For Death is printed in his face,
-      and Sorrow’s in him dwelling,
-    And you must come to my Master dear,
-      if your name is _Barbara Allen_.
-
-    If Death be printed on his face,
-      and Sorrow’s in him dwelling,
-    Then little better shall he be
-      for Bonny _Barbara Allen_.
-
-[Illustration]
-
-[Illustration]
-
-    So slowly, slowly she got up,
-      and so slowly she came to him,
-    And all she said when she came there,
-      young Man, I think you are a dying.
-
-    He turn’d his face unto her then:
-      if you be _Barbara Allen_,
-    My dear, said he, come pitty me,
-      as on my Death-bed I am lying.
-
-    If on your Death-bed you be lying,
-      what is that to _Barbara Allen_?
-    I cannot keep you from Death,
-      so farewell, said _Barbara Allen_.
-
-    He turn’d his face unto the Wall,
-      and Death came creeping to him:
-    Then adieu, adieu, and adieu to all,
-      and adieu to _Barbara Allen_.
-
-    And as she was walking on a day,
-      she heard the Bell a Ringing,
-    And it did seem to ring to her,
-      unworthy _Barbara Allen_.
-
-    She turn’d herself round about,
-      and she spy’d the Corps a coming:
-    Lay down, Lay down the Corps of Clay,
-      that I may look upon him.
-
-    And all the while she looked on,
-      so loudly she was laughing;
-    While all her Friends cry’d amain,
-      unworthy _Barbara Allen_.
-
-[Illustration]
-
-    When he was dead & laid in Grave,
-      then Death came creeping to she.
-    O Mother! Mother! make my Bed,
-      for his Death hath quite undone me.
-
-[Illustration]
-
-    A hard hearted Creature that I was,
-      to slight one that loved me so dearly;
-    I wish I had been more kinder to him,
-      the time of his Life, when he was near me.
-
-    So this Maid she then did dye,
-      and desired to be buried by him,
-    And repented herself before she dy’d
-      that ever she did deny him.
-
-[Illustration]
-
-[Illustration]
-
-[Illustration: _Perigot & Cuddy’s Roundelay._]
-
-[Illustration]
-
-
-
-
-_PERIGOT AND CUDDY’S ROUNDELAY._
-
-BY EDM. SPENSER.
-
-
-    It fell upon a holy-eve
-      (Heigho, holy-day!),
-    When holy fathers wont to shrive
-      (Now ’ginneth this roundelay),
-    Sitting upon a hill so high
-      (Heigho, the high hill!)
-    The while my flock did feed thereby,
-      The while the shepherd’s self did spill.
-
-    I saw the bouncing Bellibone
-      (Heigho, bonny-bell!)
-    Tripping over the dale alone--
-      She can trip it very well--
-    Well decked in a frock of gray
-      (Heigho, gray is great!)
-    And in a kirtle of green say--
-      The green is for maidens meet.
-
-    A chaplet on her head she wore
-      (Heigho, the chaplet!);
-    Of sweet violets therein was store--
-      She’s sweeter than the violet.
-
-[Illustration]
-
-    My sheep did leave their wonted food
-      (Heigho, silly sheep!)
-    And gazed on her as they were wood--
-      Wood as he that did them keep.
-
-    As the bonny lass passed by
-      (Heigho, bonny lass!)
-    She rolled at me with glancing eye
-      As clear as the crystal glass.
-    All as the sunny beam so bright
-      (Heigho, the sunbeam!)
-    Glanceth from Phœbus’ face forth-right,
-      So love into my heart did stream.
-
-    Or as the thunder cleaves the clouds
-      (Heigho, the thunder!)
-    Wherein the lightsome leaven shrouds,
-      So cleaves my soul asunder;
-    Or as dame Cynthia’s silver ray
-      (Heigho, the moonlight!)
-    Upon the glistening wave doth play,
-      Such play is a piteous plight.
-
-    The glance into my heart did glide
-      (Heigho, the glide!),
-    Therewith my soul was sharply gride.
-      Such wounds some waxen wide;
-    Hasting to wrench the arrow out
-      (Heigho, Perigot!),
-    I left the head in my heart-root:
-      It was a desperate shot.
-
-    Then it rankleth aye more and more
-      (Heigho, the arrow!),
-    Nor can I find salve for my sore--
-      Love is a cureless sorrow.
-    And though my bale with death I bought
-      (Heigho, heavy cheer!)
-    Yet should this lass not from my thought,
-      So you may buy gold too dear.
-
-    But whether in painful love I pine
-      (Heigho, pinching pain!)
-    Or thrive in wealth, she shall be mine.
-      But if thou can her obtain,
-    And if for graceless grief I die
-      (Heigho, graceless grief!),
-    Witness she slew me with her eye,
-      Let thy folly be the preef (_sic_).
-
-    And you that saw it, simple sheep
-      (Heigho, the fair flock!),
-    For prief thereof my death shall weep
-      And moan with many a mock.
-    So learn’d I love on a holy-eve
-      (Heigho, holy-day!)
-    That ever since my heart did grieve.
-      Now endeth our roundelay.
-
-[Illustration:
-
-    _SALLY IN OUR ALLEY
-    A SONG by
-    H. CAREY_
-]
-
-[Illustration]
-
-
-
-
-_SALLY IN OUR ALLEY._
-
-
-    Of all the girls that are so smart
-      There’s none like pretty Sally:
-    She is the darling of my heart,
-      And she lives in our alley.
-    There is no lady in the land
-      Is half so sweet as Sally:
-    She is the darling of my heart,
-      And she lives in our alley.
-
-    Her father he makes cabbage-nets,
-      And through the streets does cry ’em;
-    Her mother she sells laces long
-      To such as please to buy ’em;
-
-[Illustration]
-
-[Illustration]
-
-    But sure such folks could ne’er beget
-      So sweet a girl as Sally!
-    She is the darling of my heart,
-      And she lives in our alley.
-
-    When she is by, I leave my work,
-      I love her so sincerely;
-    My master comes like any Turk,
-      And bangs me most severely;
-
-    But let him bang his bellyful,
-      I’ll bear it all for Sally:
-    She is the darling of my heart,
-      And she lives in our alley.
-
-[Illustration]
-
-[Illustration]
-
-[Illustration]
-
-    Of all the days that’s in the week
-      I dearly love but one day,
-    And that’s the day that comes betwixt
-      A Saturday and Monday;
-    For then I’m drest all in my best
-      To walk abroad with Sally:
-    She is the darling of my heart,
-      And she lives in our alley.
-
-[Illustration]
-
-    My master carries me to church,
-      And often am I blamed
-    Because I leave him in the lurch
-      As soon as text is named;
-    I leave the church in sermon-time
-      And slink away to Sally:
-    She is the darling of my heart,
-      And she lives in our alley.
-
-    When Christmas comes about again,
-      Oh, then I shall have money;
-    I’ll hoard it up, and box it all,
-      I’ll give it to my honey:
-    I would it were ten thousand pound,
-      I’d give it all to Sally:
-    She is the darling of my heart,
-      And she lives in our alley.
-
-[Illustration]
-
-    My master and the neighbors all
-      Make game of me and Sally,
-    And, but for her, I’d better be
-      A slave and row a galley;
-
-[Illustration]
-
-    But when my seven long years are out,
-      Oh, then I’ll marry Sally!
-    And then how happily we’ll live,
-      But _not_ in our alley.
-
-[Illustration]
-
-[Illustration: “_EARLY ONE MORNING_”]
-
-
-
-
-“_EARLY ONE MORNING._”
-
-
-    Early one morning, just as the sun was rising,
-      I heard a maid sing in the valley below:
-    “Oh, don’t deceive me! oh, never leave me!
-      How could you use a poor maiden so?
-
-    “Oh, gay is the garland and fresh are the roses
-      I’ve culled from the garden to bind up my brow.
-    Oh, don’t deceive me! oh, do not leave me!
-      How could you use a poor maiden so?
-
-    “Remember the vows you made to your Mary;
-      Remember the bow’r where you vowed to be true.
-    Oh, don’t deceive me! oh, do not leave me!
-      How could you use a poor maiden so?”
-
-    Thus sang the poor maiden, her sorrows bewailing;
-      Thus sang the poor maid in the valley below:
-    “Oh, don’t deceive me! oh, never leave me!
-      How could you use a poor maiden so?”
-
-[Illustration]
-
-[Illustration]
-
-[Illustration: _Kitty of Coleraine_]
-
-[Illustration]
-
-[Illustration]
-
-
-
-
-_KITTY OF COLERAINE._
-
-
-    As beautiful Kitty one morning was tripping
-      With a pitcher of milk from the fair of Coleraine,
-    When she saw me she stumbled, the pitcher it tumbled,
-      And all the sweet buttermilk water’d the plain.
-
-    Oh, what shall I do now? ’Twas looking at you, now.
-      Sure, sure, such a pitcher I’ll ne’er meet again.
-    ’Twas the pride of my dairy. Oh, Barney M’Leary,
-      You’re sent as a plague to the girls of Coleraine!
-
-[Illustration]
-
-[Illustration]
-
-[Illustration]
-
-[Illustration]
-
-    I sat down beside her, and gently did chide her,
-      That such a misfortune should give her such pain.
-    A kiss then I gave her. Before I did leave her,
-      She vow’d for such pleasure she’d break it again.
-
-    ’Twas haymaking season. I can’t tell the reason--
-      Misfortunes will never come single--that’s plain--
-    For very soon after poor Kitty’s disaster,
-      The devil a pitcher was whole in Coleraine.
-
-[Illustration]
-
-[Illustration: OLD KING COLE]
-
-
-
-
-_OLD KING COLE._
-
-
-    Old King Cole was a merry old soul,
-              And a merry old soul was he;
-              And he call’d for his pipe,
-              And he call’d for his bowl,
-              And he call’d for his fiddlers three.
-    Then twedle, twedle, twedle, twedle, twedle went the fiddlers;
-    Twedle, twedle, twedle, twedle, twedle, twedle twee.
-              There’s none so rare as can compare
-              To King Cole and his fiddlers three.
-
-[Illustration]
-
-[Illustration]
-
-[Illustration:
-
-    HARVEST
-    HOME
-]
-
-
-
-
-_HARVEST-HOME._
-
-
-    Come, Roger and Nell;
-      Come, Simkin and Bell;
-    Each lad with his lass hither come,
-      With singing and dancing,
-        In pleasure advancing
-        To celebrate harvest-home.
-              ’Tis Ceres bids play
-              And keep holiday
-              To celebrate harvest-home.
-
-    Our labor is o’er, and our barns in full store
-      Now swell with rich gifts of the land.
-    Let each man then take, for the prong and the rake,
-      His can and his lass in his hand.
-              ’Tis Ceres bids play
-              And keep holiday
-              To celebrate harvest-home.
-
-    No courtiers can be so happy as we
-      In innocent pastime and mirth,
-
-[Illustration]
-
-[Illustration]
-
-    While thus we carouse with our sweetheart or spouse,
-      And rejoice o’er the fruits of the earth.
-              ’Tis Ceres bids play
-              And keep holiday
-              To celebrate harvest-home.
-
-[Illustration]
-
-[Illustration]
-
-[Illustration:
-
-
-
-
-    DOWN IN
-    CVPID’S
-    GARDEN
-]
-
-
-
-
-“_’TWAS DOWN IN CUPID’S GARDEN._”
-
-
-    ’Twas down in Cupid’s garden
-      For pleasure I did go,
-    To see the fairest flowers
-      That in that garden grow.
-    The first it was the jessamine,
-      The lily, pink, and rose,
-    And surely they’re the fairest flow’rs
-      That in that garden grows!
-
-    I’d not walked in that garden
-      The part of half an hour,
-    When there I saw two pretty maids
-      Sitting under a shady bower.
-    The first was lovely Nancy,
-      So beautiful and fair;
-    The other was a virgin
-      Who did the laurel wear.
-
-    I boldly stepped up to her,
-      And unto her did say,
-    Are you engaged to any young man?
-      Do tell to me, I pray!
-
-[Illustration]
-
-    I’m not engaged to any young man,
-      I solemnly do swear;
-    I mean to live a virgin,
-      And still the laurel wear.
-
-    Then hand in hand together
-      This lovely couple went;
-    Resolved was the sailor boy
-      To know her full intent--
-    To know if he would slighted be
-      When to her the truth he told.
-    Oh no! oh no! oh no! she cried;
-      I love a sailor bold.
-
-[Illustration]
-
-
-
-
-[Illustration:
-
-    PHILLADA
-    FLOUTS ME
-]
-
-[Illustration]
-
-[Illustration]
-
-_PHILLADA._
-
-
-    Oh, what a pain is love!
-      How shall I bear it?
-    She will unconstant prove;
-      I greatly fear it.
-    She so torments my mind
-      That my strength faileth,
-    And wavers with the wind
-      As a ship saileth.
-    Please her the best I may,
-    She loves still to gainsay:
-    Alack and well-a-day!
-      Phillada flouts me.
-
-    All the fair yesterday
-      She did pass by me;
-    She looked another way
-      And would not spy me.
-    I woo’d her for to dine,
-      But could not get her;
-    Will had her to the wine--
-      He might intreat her.
-    With Daniel she did dance;
-    On me she looked askance:
-    Oh, thrice unhappy chance!
-      Phillada flouts me.
-
-[Illustration]
-
-[Illustration]
-
-    Fair maid! be not so coy;
-      Do not disdain me!
-    I am my mother’s joy:
-      Sweet! entertain me!
-    She’ll give me when she dies
-      All that is fitting:
-    Her poultry and her bees,
-      And her goose sitting,
-    A pair of mattress beds,
-    And a bag full of shreds:
-    And yet, for all this guedes,
-      Phillada flouts me.
-
-[Illustration]
-
-    She hath a clout of mine,
-      Wrought with blue coventry,
-    Which she keeps for a sign
-      Of my fidelity;
-    But, ’faith, if she flinch,
-      She shall not wear it;
-    To Tib, my t’other wench,
-      I mean to bear it.
-    And yet it grieves my heart
-    So soon from her to part:
-    Death strike me with his dart!
-      Phillada flouts me.
-
-[Illustration]
-
-    Thou shalt eat crudded cream
-      All the year lasting,
-    And drink the crystal stream
-      Pleasant in tasting,
-
-[Illustration]
-
-    Whig and whey whilst thou lust,
-      And ramble-berries,
-    Pie-lid and pastry crust,
-      Pears, plums, and cherries;
-    Thy raiment shall be thin,
-    Made of a weevil’s skin--
-    Yet all’s not worth a pin:
-      Phillada flouts me.
-
-    Fair maiden! have a care,
-      And in time take me;
-    I can have those as fair,
-      If you forsake me:
-    For Doll the dairy-maid
-      Laughed at me lately,
-    And wanton Winifred
-      Favors me greatly.
-
-[Illustration]
-
-    One throws milk on my clothes;
-    T’other plays with my nose:
-    What wanting signs are those!
-      Phillada flouts me.
-
-    I cannot work nor sleep
-      At all in season,
-    Love wounds my heart so deep,
-      Without all reason.
-    I ’gin to pine away
-      In my love’s shadow,
-    Like as a fat beast may
-      Penned in a meadow.
-    I shall be dead, I fear,
-    Within this thousand year:
-    And all for that my dear
-      Phillada flouts me.
-
-[Illustration]
-
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