1In merry Scotland, in merry Scotland,There lived brothers three,They all did cast lots which of them should go,A robbing upon the salt sea.2The lot it fell upon Henry Martyn,The youngest of the three,That he should go rob on the salt, salt sea,To maintain his brothers and he.3He had not a sailed a long winter's night,Nor yet a short winter's day,Before he espied the King's gallant ship,Come sailing along that way.4How far, how far, cried Henry Martyn,How far are you going? said heFor I am a robber upon the salt seas,To maintain my brothers and me.5Stand off, stand off! the Captain he cried,The lifeguards they are aboard.My cannons are loaden with powder and shot;And every man hath a sword.6For three long hours they merrily fought,For hours they fought full three.And many a blow it dealt many a wound,As they fought on the salt, salt sea.7Twas broadside against a broadside then,And at it, the which should win,A shot in the gallant ship bored a hole,And then did the water rush in.8Bad news! bad news, for old EnglandBad news has come to the town,The king his vessel is wrecked and lost,An all his brave soldiers drown.9Bad news! bad news through the London street!Bad news has come to the King,The lives of his guard they be all a lost,O the tidings be sad that I bring.10O had I a twisted rope of hemp,A bowstring strong though thin;I'd soon hang him up to his middle yard arm,And have done with Henry Martyn.
1In merry Scotland, in merry Scotland,There lived brothers three,They all did cast lots which of them should go,A robbing upon the salt sea.2The lot it fell upon Henry Martyn,The youngest of the three,That he should go rob on the salt, salt sea,To maintain his brothers and he.3He had not a sailed a long winter's night,Nor yet a short winter's day,Before he espied the King's gallant ship,Come sailing along that way.4How far, how far, cried Henry Martyn,How far are you going? said heFor I am a robber upon the salt seas,To maintain my brothers and me.5Stand off, stand off! the Captain he cried,The lifeguards they are aboard.My cannons are loaden with powder and shot;And every man hath a sword.6For three long hours they merrily fought,For hours they fought full three.And many a blow it dealt many a wound,As they fought on the salt, salt sea.7Twas broadside against a broadside then,And at it, the which should win,A shot in the gallant ship bored a hole,And then did the water rush in.8Bad news! bad news, for old EnglandBad news has come to the town,The king his vessel is wrecked and lost,An all his brave soldiers drown.9Bad news! bad news through the London street!Bad news has come to the King,The lives of his guard they be all a lost,O the tidings be sad that I bring.10O had I a twisted rope of hemp,A bowstring strong though thin;I'd soon hang him up to his middle yard arm,And have done with Henry Martyn.
1
In merry Scotland, in merry Scotland,There lived brothers three,They all did cast lots which of them should go,A robbing upon the salt sea.
2
The lot it fell upon Henry Martyn,The youngest of the three,That he should go rob on the salt, salt sea,To maintain his brothers and he.
3
He had not a sailed a long winter's night,Nor yet a short winter's day,Before he espied the King's gallant ship,Come sailing along that way.
4
How far, how far, cried Henry Martyn,How far are you going? said heFor I am a robber upon the salt seas,To maintain my brothers and me.
5
Stand off, stand off! the Captain he cried,The lifeguards they are aboard.My cannons are loaden with powder and shot;And every man hath a sword.
6
For three long hours they merrily fought,For hours they fought full three.And many a blow it dealt many a wound,As they fought on the salt, salt sea.
7
Twas broadside against a broadside then,And at it, the which should win,A shot in the gallant ship bored a hole,And then did the water rush in.
8
Bad news! bad news, for old EnglandBad news has come to the town,The king his vessel is wrecked and lost,An all his brave soldiers drown.
9
Bad news! bad news through the London street!Bad news has come to the King,The lives of his guard they be all a lost,O the tidings be sad that I bring.
10
O had I a twisted rope of hemp,A bowstring strong though thin;I'd soon hang him up to his middle yard arm,And have done with Henry Martyn.
H.F.S.
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1O the fair town of Plymouth is by the sea-side,The Sound is so blue, and so still and so wide,Encircled with hills and with forests all green,As a crown of fresh leaves on the head of a queen,O dear Plymouth town, and O blue Plymouth Sound!O where is your equal on Earth to be found.2O the maidens of Plymouth are comely and sweet,So mirthful of eye and so nimble of feet,I love all the lasses of Plymouth so well,That the which I love best not a prophet can tell.O dear Plymouth town, &c.3O the bells of old Plymouth float over the bay,My heart it does melt, as I'm sailing away.O be they a ringing when I do return,With thoughts matrimonial my bosom will burn.O dear Plymouth town, &c.4For the maidens of Plymouth my love is so hot,With a bushel of rings I would marry the lot.But as I can't marry them all, well-a-day!Perhaps it's as well that I'm sailing away.O dear Plymouth town, &c.
1O the fair town of Plymouth is by the sea-side,The Sound is so blue, and so still and so wide,Encircled with hills and with forests all green,As a crown of fresh leaves on the head of a queen,O dear Plymouth town, and O blue Plymouth Sound!O where is your equal on Earth to be found.2O the maidens of Plymouth are comely and sweet,So mirthful of eye and so nimble of feet,I love all the lasses of Plymouth so well,That the which I love best not a prophet can tell.O dear Plymouth town, &c.3O the bells of old Plymouth float over the bay,My heart it does melt, as I'm sailing away.O be they a ringing when I do return,With thoughts matrimonial my bosom will burn.O dear Plymouth town, &c.4For the maidens of Plymouth my love is so hot,With a bushel of rings I would marry the lot.But as I can't marry them all, well-a-day!Perhaps it's as well that I'm sailing away.O dear Plymouth town, &c.
1
O the fair town of Plymouth is by the sea-side,The Sound is so blue, and so still and so wide,Encircled with hills and with forests all green,As a crown of fresh leaves on the head of a queen,O dear Plymouth town, and O blue Plymouth Sound!O where is your equal on Earth to be found.
2
O the maidens of Plymouth are comely and sweet,So mirthful of eye and so nimble of feet,I love all the lasses of Plymouth so well,That the which I love best not a prophet can tell.O dear Plymouth town, &c.
3
O the bells of old Plymouth float over the bay,My heart it does melt, as I'm sailing away.O be they a ringing when I do return,With thoughts matrimonial my bosom will burn.O dear Plymouth town, &c.
4
For the maidens of Plymouth my love is so hot,With a bushel of rings I would marry the lot.But as I can't marry them all, well-a-day!Perhaps it's as well that I'm sailing away.O dear Plymouth town, &c.
C.J.S.
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1The fox went out one winter night,And prayed the moon to give him light,For he'd many a mile to go that night,Before he reached his den, O!Den, O! Den, O!For he'd many a mile to go that night,For he'd many a mile to go that night,Before he reached his den, O!2At last he came to a farmer's yard,Where ducks and geese were all afear'd,"The best of you all shall grease my beard,Before I leave the Town O!Town, O! Town, O!The best of you all &c."3He took the grey goose by the neck,He laid a duck across his back,And heeded not their quack! quack! quack!The legs of all dangling down, O!Down, O! Down, O!And heeded not &c.4Then old mother Slipper Slopper jump'd out of bedAnd out of the window she pop't her head,Crying "Oh! John, John! the grey goose is dead,And the fox is over the down, O!"Down, O! Down, O!Crying "O John, John &c."5Then John got up to the top o' the hill,And blew his horn both loud and shrill,"Blow on" said Reynard, "your music still,Whilst I trot home to my den, O!"Den, O! Den, O!"Blow on" said Reynard &c.6At last he came to his cosy den,Where sat his young ones, nine or ten.Quoth they, "Daddy, you must go there again,For sure, 'tis a lucky town, O!"Town, O! Town, O!Quoth they, "Daddy, &c."7The fox and wife without any strife,They cut up the goose without fork or knife,And said 'twas the best they had eat in their life,And the young ones pick'd the bones, O!Bones, O! Bones, O!And said 'twas the best, &c.
1The fox went out one winter night,And prayed the moon to give him light,For he'd many a mile to go that night,Before he reached his den, O!Den, O! Den, O!For he'd many a mile to go that night,For he'd many a mile to go that night,Before he reached his den, O!2At last he came to a farmer's yard,Where ducks and geese were all afear'd,"The best of you all shall grease my beard,Before I leave the Town O!Town, O! Town, O!The best of you all &c."3He took the grey goose by the neck,He laid a duck across his back,And heeded not their quack! quack! quack!The legs of all dangling down, O!Down, O! Down, O!And heeded not &c.4Then old mother Slipper Slopper jump'd out of bedAnd out of the window she pop't her head,Crying "Oh! John, John! the grey goose is dead,And the fox is over the down, O!"Down, O! Down, O!Crying "O John, John &c."5Then John got up to the top o' the hill,And blew his horn both loud and shrill,"Blow on" said Reynard, "your music still,Whilst I trot home to my den, O!"Den, O! Den, O!"Blow on" said Reynard &c.6At last he came to his cosy den,Where sat his young ones, nine or ten.Quoth they, "Daddy, you must go there again,For sure, 'tis a lucky town, O!"Town, O! Town, O!Quoth they, "Daddy, &c."7The fox and wife without any strife,They cut up the goose without fork or knife,And said 'twas the best they had eat in their life,And the young ones pick'd the bones, O!Bones, O! Bones, O!And said 'twas the best, &c.
1
The fox went out one winter night,And prayed the moon to give him light,For he'd many a mile to go that night,Before he reached his den, O!Den, O! Den, O!For he'd many a mile to go that night,For he'd many a mile to go that night,Before he reached his den, O!
2
At last he came to a farmer's yard,Where ducks and geese were all afear'd,"The best of you all shall grease my beard,Before I leave the Town O!Town, O! Town, O!The best of you all &c."
3
He took the grey goose by the neck,He laid a duck across his back,And heeded not their quack! quack! quack!The legs of all dangling down, O!Down, O! Down, O!And heeded not &c.
4
Then old mother Slipper Slopper jump'd out of bedAnd out of the window she pop't her head,Crying "Oh! John, John! the grey goose is dead,And the fox is over the down, O!"Down, O! Down, O!Crying "O John, John &c."
5
Then John got up to the top o' the hill,And blew his horn both loud and shrill,"Blow on" said Reynard, "your music still,Whilst I trot home to my den, O!"Den, O! Den, O!"Blow on" said Reynard &c.
6
At last he came to his cosy den,Where sat his young ones, nine or ten.Quoth they, "Daddy, you must go there again,For sure, 'tis a lucky town, O!"Town, O! Town, O!Quoth they, "Daddy, &c."
7
The fox and wife without any strife,They cut up the goose without fork or knife,And said 'twas the best they had eat in their life,And the young ones pick'd the bones, O!Bones, O! Bones, O!And said 'twas the best, &c.
H.F.S.
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1There's not a cloud a sailing by,That does not hold a shower;There's not a furze-bush on the moor,That doth not put forth flower.About the roots we need not delve,The branches need not prune,The yellow furze will ever flower,And ever love's in tune!When the furze is out of flower,Then love is out of tune.2There's not a season of the year,Nor weather hot nor cold,In windy spring, in watery fall,But furze is clad in gold.It blossoms in the falling snow,It blazes bright in June,And love, like it, is always here,And ever opportune.When the furze is out of flower,Then love is out of tune.3[17]There's not a saucy lad I wot,With light and roguish eye,That doth not love a pretty lass,And kiss her on the sly,There's not a maiden in the shireFrom Hartland Point to Brent,In velvet, or in cotton gown,That will his love resent.When the furze is out of flower,Then love is out of tune.4Beside the fire with toasted crabs,We sit and love is there,In merry spring, with apple flowers,It flutters in the air.At harvest when we toss the sheaves,Then Love with them is toss't.At fall when nipp'd and sere the leaves,Unnipp't is Love by frost.When the furze is out of flower,Then love is out of tune.
1There's not a cloud a sailing by,That does not hold a shower;There's not a furze-bush on the moor,That doth not put forth flower.About the roots we need not delve,The branches need not prune,The yellow furze will ever flower,And ever love's in tune!When the furze is out of flower,Then love is out of tune.2There's not a season of the year,Nor weather hot nor cold,In windy spring, in watery fall,But furze is clad in gold.It blossoms in the falling snow,It blazes bright in June,And love, like it, is always here,And ever opportune.When the furze is out of flower,Then love is out of tune.3[17]There's not a saucy lad I wot,With light and roguish eye,That doth not love a pretty lass,And kiss her on the sly,There's not a maiden in the shireFrom Hartland Point to Brent,In velvet, or in cotton gown,That will his love resent.When the furze is out of flower,Then love is out of tune.4Beside the fire with toasted crabs,We sit and love is there,In merry spring, with apple flowers,It flutters in the air.At harvest when we toss the sheaves,Then Love with them is toss't.At fall when nipp'd and sere the leaves,Unnipp't is Love by frost.When the furze is out of flower,Then love is out of tune.
1
There's not a cloud a sailing by,That does not hold a shower;There's not a furze-bush on the moor,That doth not put forth flower.About the roots we need not delve,The branches need not prune,The yellow furze will ever flower,And ever love's in tune!When the furze is out of flower,Then love is out of tune.
2
There's not a season of the year,Nor weather hot nor cold,In windy spring, in watery fall,But furze is clad in gold.It blossoms in the falling snow,It blazes bright in June,And love, like it, is always here,And ever opportune.When the furze is out of flower,Then love is out of tune.
3[17]
There's not a saucy lad I wot,With light and roguish eye,That doth not love a pretty lass,And kiss her on the sly,There's not a maiden in the shireFrom Hartland Point to Brent,In velvet, or in cotton gown,That will his love resent.When the furze is out of flower,Then love is out of tune.
4
Beside the fire with toasted crabs,We sit and love is there,In merry spring, with apple flowers,It flutters in the air.At harvest when we toss the sheaves,Then Love with them is toss't.At fall when nipp'd and sere the leaves,Unnipp't is Love by frost.When the furze is out of flower,Then love is out of tune.
H.F.S.
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1Prithee lend your jocund voices,For to listen we're agreed:Come sing of songs the choicest,Of the life the ploughboys lead.There are none that live so merryAs the ploughboy does in SpringWhen he hears the sweet birds whistleAnd the nightingales to sing.With my Hump-a-long! Jump-a-long!Here drives my lad along!Pretty, Sparkle, BerryGood-luck, Speedwell, Cherry!We are the lads that can follow the plough.2For it's, O my little ploughboyCome awaken in the morn,When the cock upon the dunghillIs a-blowing of his horn.Soon the sun above Brown Willy,[18]With his golden face will show;Therefore hasten to the linneyYoke the oxen to the plough.With my Hump-a-long! &c.3In the heat of the daytimeIt's but little we can do.We will lie beside our oxenFor an hour, or for two.On the banks of sweet violets,I'll take my noontide rest,And it's I can kiss a pretty girlAs hearty as the best.With my Hump a long! &c.4When the sun at eve is settingAnd the shadows fill the vale,Then our throttles we'll be wetting,With the farmer's humming ale.And the oxen home returningWe will send into the stall.Where the logs and turf are burning,We'll be merry ploughboys all.With my Hump a long! &c.5O the farmer must have seed, sirs,Or I swear he cannot sow.And the miller with his mill wheelIs an idle man also.And the huntsman gives up hunting,And the tradesman stands aside,And the poor man bread is wanting,So 'tis we for all provide.With my Hump a long! &c.
1Prithee lend your jocund voices,For to listen we're agreed:Come sing of songs the choicest,Of the life the ploughboys lead.There are none that live so merryAs the ploughboy does in SpringWhen he hears the sweet birds whistleAnd the nightingales to sing.With my Hump-a-long! Jump-a-long!Here drives my lad along!Pretty, Sparkle, BerryGood-luck, Speedwell, Cherry!We are the lads that can follow the plough.2For it's, O my little ploughboyCome awaken in the morn,When the cock upon the dunghillIs a-blowing of his horn.Soon the sun above Brown Willy,[18]With his golden face will show;Therefore hasten to the linneyYoke the oxen to the plough.With my Hump-a-long! &c.3In the heat of the daytimeIt's but little we can do.We will lie beside our oxenFor an hour, or for two.On the banks of sweet violets,I'll take my noontide rest,And it's I can kiss a pretty girlAs hearty as the best.With my Hump a long! &c.4When the sun at eve is settingAnd the shadows fill the vale,Then our throttles we'll be wetting,With the farmer's humming ale.And the oxen home returningWe will send into the stall.Where the logs and turf are burning,We'll be merry ploughboys all.With my Hump a long! &c.5O the farmer must have seed, sirs,Or I swear he cannot sow.And the miller with his mill wheelIs an idle man also.And the huntsman gives up hunting,And the tradesman stands aside,And the poor man bread is wanting,So 'tis we for all provide.With my Hump a long! &c.
1
Prithee lend your jocund voices,For to listen we're agreed:Come sing of songs the choicest,Of the life the ploughboys lead.There are none that live so merryAs the ploughboy does in SpringWhen he hears the sweet birds whistleAnd the nightingales to sing.With my Hump-a-long! Jump-a-long!Here drives my lad along!Pretty, Sparkle, BerryGood-luck, Speedwell, Cherry!We are the lads that can follow the plough.
2
For it's, O my little ploughboyCome awaken in the morn,When the cock upon the dunghillIs a-blowing of his horn.Soon the sun above Brown Willy,[18]With his golden face will show;Therefore hasten to the linneyYoke the oxen to the plough.With my Hump-a-long! &c.
3
In the heat of the daytimeIt's but little we can do.We will lie beside our oxenFor an hour, or for two.On the banks of sweet violets,I'll take my noontide rest,And it's I can kiss a pretty girlAs hearty as the best.With my Hump a long! &c.
4
When the sun at eve is settingAnd the shadows fill the vale,Then our throttles we'll be wetting,With the farmer's humming ale.And the oxen home returningWe will send into the stall.Where the logs and turf are burning,We'll be merry ploughboys all.With my Hump a long! &c.
5
O the farmer must have seed, sirs,Or I swear he cannot sow.And the miller with his mill wheelIs an idle man also.And the huntsman gives up hunting,And the tradesman stands aside,And the poor man bread is wanting,So 'tis we for all provide.With my Hump a long! &c.
C.J.S.
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1'Twas when I came to England, some pleasures for to find,There I espied a damsel most pleasing to my mind;Her rosy cheeks and shining eyes as arrows pierced my breast,Her name was lovely Flora, the Lily of the West.2Her golden hair in ringlets hung, her dress was spangled o'er;She'd rings on every finger, brought from a foreign shore;'Twould ruin kings and princes, so richly was she dress'd,She far excelleth Venus, this Lily of the West.3I courted her a fortnight, in hopes her love to gain,But soon she turn'd against me, which caused all my pain.She robb'd me of my freedom, she robb'd me of my rest,I roam, forsook of Flora, the Lily of the West.4Alas! where'er I wander, however much I will,The thought of that fair maiden abideth with me still;For ever I am downcast, for ever sore oppress'd,An outcast e'er from Flora, the Lily of the West.
1'Twas when I came to England, some pleasures for to find,There I espied a damsel most pleasing to my mind;Her rosy cheeks and shining eyes as arrows pierced my breast,Her name was lovely Flora, the Lily of the West.2Her golden hair in ringlets hung, her dress was spangled o'er;She'd rings on every finger, brought from a foreign shore;'Twould ruin kings and princes, so richly was she dress'd,She far excelleth Venus, this Lily of the West.3I courted her a fortnight, in hopes her love to gain,But soon she turn'd against me, which caused all my pain.She robb'd me of my freedom, she robb'd me of my rest,I roam, forsook of Flora, the Lily of the West.4Alas! where'er I wander, however much I will,The thought of that fair maiden abideth with me still;For ever I am downcast, for ever sore oppress'd,An outcast e'er from Flora, the Lily of the West.
1
'Twas when I came to England, some pleasures for to find,There I espied a damsel most pleasing to my mind;Her rosy cheeks and shining eyes as arrows pierced my breast,Her name was lovely Flora, the Lily of the West.
2
Her golden hair in ringlets hung, her dress was spangled o'er;She'd rings on every finger, brought from a foreign shore;'Twould ruin kings and princes, so richly was she dress'd,She far excelleth Venus, this Lily of the West.
3
I courted her a fortnight, in hopes her love to gain,But soon she turn'd against me, which caused all my pain.She robb'd me of my freedom, she robb'd me of my rest,I roam, forsook of Flora, the Lily of the West.
4
Alas! where'er I wander, however much I will,The thought of that fair maiden abideth with me still;For ever I am downcast, for ever sore oppress'd,An outcast e'er from Flora, the Lily of the West.
C.J.S.
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1'Twas when I came to England, some pleasure for to find,There I espied a damsel most pleasing to my mind;Her rosy cheeks and shining eyes as arrows pierced my breast,Her name was Lovely Flora, the Lily of the West.2Her golden hair in ringlets hung, her dress was spangled o'er;She'd rings on every finger, brought from a foreign shore;'Twould ruin kings and princes, so richly was she dress'd,She far excelleth Venus, this Lily of the West.3I courted her a fortnight, in hopes her love to gain,But soon she turn'd against me, which caused all my pain.She robb'd me of my freedom, she robb'd me of my rest,I roam, forsook of Flora, the Lily of the West.4Alas! where'er I wander, however much I willThe thought of that fair maiden abideth with me still;For ever I am downcast, for ever am oppress'd,An outcast e'er from Flora, the Lily of the West.
1'Twas when I came to England, some pleasure for to find,There I espied a damsel most pleasing to my mind;Her rosy cheeks and shining eyes as arrows pierced my breast,Her name was Lovely Flora, the Lily of the West.2Her golden hair in ringlets hung, her dress was spangled o'er;She'd rings on every finger, brought from a foreign shore;'Twould ruin kings and princes, so richly was she dress'd,She far excelleth Venus, this Lily of the West.3I courted her a fortnight, in hopes her love to gain,But soon she turn'd against me, which caused all my pain.She robb'd me of my freedom, she robb'd me of my rest,I roam, forsook of Flora, the Lily of the West.4Alas! where'er I wander, however much I willThe thought of that fair maiden abideth with me still;For ever I am downcast, for ever am oppress'd,An outcast e'er from Flora, the Lily of the West.
1
'Twas when I came to England, some pleasure for to find,There I espied a damsel most pleasing to my mind;Her rosy cheeks and shining eyes as arrows pierced my breast,Her name was Lovely Flora, the Lily of the West.
2
Her golden hair in ringlets hung, her dress was spangled o'er;She'd rings on every finger, brought from a foreign shore;'Twould ruin kings and princes, so richly was she dress'd,She far excelleth Venus, this Lily of the West.
3
I courted her a fortnight, in hopes her love to gain,But soon she turn'd against me, which caused all my pain.She robb'd me of my freedom, she robb'd me of my rest,I roam, forsook of Flora, the Lily of the West.
4
Alas! where'er I wander, however much I willThe thought of that fair maiden abideth with me still;For ever I am downcast, for ever am oppress'd,An outcast e'er from Flora, the Lily of the West.
C.J.S.
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1O the Ploughboy was a ploughingWith his horses on the plain,And was singing of a song as on went he."Since that I have fall'n in love,If the parents disapprove,'Tis the first thing that will send me to the sea."2When the parents came to knowThat their daughter loved him so,Then they sent a gang, and pressed him for the sea.And they made of him a tar,To be slain in cruel war;Of the simple Ploughboy singing on the lea.3The maiden sore did grieve,And without a word of leave,From her father's house she fled secretlie,In male attire dress'd,With a star upon her breast,All to seek her simple Ploughboy on the sea.4Then she went o'er hill and plain,And she walked in wind and rain,Till she came to the brink of the blue sea.Saying, "I am forced to rove,For the loss of my true love,Who is but a simple Ploughboy from the lea."5[19]Now the first she did behold,O it was a sailor bold,"Have you seen my simple ploughboy?" then said she."They have press'd him to the fleet,Sent him tossing on the deep,Who is but a simple Ploughboy from the lea."6Then she went to the Captain,And to him she made complain,"O a silly Ploughboy's run away from me!"Then the Captain smiled and said,"Why Sir! surely you're a maid!So the Ploughboy I will render up to thee."7Then she pullèd out a store,Of five hundred crowns and more,And she strewed them on the deck, did she,Then she took him by the hand,And she rowed him to the land,Where she wed the simple Ploughboy back from sea.
1O the Ploughboy was a ploughingWith his horses on the plain,And was singing of a song as on went he."Since that I have fall'n in love,If the parents disapprove,'Tis the first thing that will send me to the sea."2When the parents came to knowThat their daughter loved him so,Then they sent a gang, and pressed him for the sea.And they made of him a tar,To be slain in cruel war;Of the simple Ploughboy singing on the lea.3The maiden sore did grieve,And without a word of leave,From her father's house she fled secretlie,In male attire dress'd,With a star upon her breast,All to seek her simple Ploughboy on the sea.4Then she went o'er hill and plain,And she walked in wind and rain,Till she came to the brink of the blue sea.Saying, "I am forced to rove,For the loss of my true love,Who is but a simple Ploughboy from the lea."5[19]Now the first she did behold,O it was a sailor bold,"Have you seen my simple ploughboy?" then said she."They have press'd him to the fleet,Sent him tossing on the deep,Who is but a simple Ploughboy from the lea."6Then she went to the Captain,And to him she made complain,"O a silly Ploughboy's run away from me!"Then the Captain smiled and said,"Why Sir! surely you're a maid!So the Ploughboy I will render up to thee."7Then she pullèd out a store,Of five hundred crowns and more,And she strewed them on the deck, did she,Then she took him by the hand,And she rowed him to the land,Where she wed the simple Ploughboy back from sea.
1
O the Ploughboy was a ploughingWith his horses on the plain,And was singing of a song as on went he."Since that I have fall'n in love,If the parents disapprove,'Tis the first thing that will send me to the sea."
2
When the parents came to knowThat their daughter loved him so,Then they sent a gang, and pressed him for the sea.And they made of him a tar,To be slain in cruel war;Of the simple Ploughboy singing on the lea.
3
The maiden sore did grieve,And without a word of leave,From her father's house she fled secretlie,In male attire dress'd,With a star upon her breast,All to seek her simple Ploughboy on the sea.
4
Then she went o'er hill and plain,And she walked in wind and rain,Till she came to the brink of the blue sea.Saying, "I am forced to rove,For the loss of my true love,Who is but a simple Ploughboy from the lea."
5[19]
Now the first she did behold,O it was a sailor bold,"Have you seen my simple ploughboy?" then said she."They have press'd him to the fleet,Sent him tossing on the deep,Who is but a simple Ploughboy from the lea."
6
Then she went to the Captain,And to him she made complain,"O a silly Ploughboy's run away from me!"Then the Captain smiled and said,"Why Sir! surely you're a maid!So the Ploughboy I will render up to thee."
7
Then she pullèd out a store,Of five hundred crowns and more,And she strewed them on the deck, did she,Then she took him by the hand,And she rowed him to the land,Where she wed the simple Ploughboy back from sea.
C.J.S.
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1Dear love, regard my grief,Do not my suit disdain;O yield me some relief,That am with sorrows slain.Pity my grievous painLong suffer'd for thy sake,Do not my suit disdainNo time I rest can take.These seven long years and moreStill have I loved thee;Do thou my joys restoreFair lady, pity me.2While that I live I loveSo fancy urgeth me;My mind can not removeSuch is my constancy.My mind is nobly bentTho' I'm of low degree;Sweet lady, give consentTo love and pity me.These seven long years and moreStill have I loved thee;Do thou my joys restoreFair lady, pity me.
1Dear love, regard my grief,Do not my suit disdain;O yield me some relief,That am with sorrows slain.Pity my grievous painLong suffer'd for thy sake,Do not my suit disdainNo time I rest can take.These seven long years and moreStill have I loved thee;Do thou my joys restoreFair lady, pity me.2While that I live I loveSo fancy urgeth me;My mind can not removeSuch is my constancy.My mind is nobly bentTho' I'm of low degree;Sweet lady, give consentTo love and pity me.These seven long years and moreStill have I loved thee;Do thou my joys restoreFair lady, pity me.
1
Dear love, regard my grief,Do not my suit disdain;O yield me some relief,That am with sorrows slain.Pity my grievous painLong suffer'd for thy sake,Do not my suit disdainNo time I rest can take.These seven long years and moreStill have I loved thee;Do thou my joys restoreFair lady, pity me.
2
While that I live I loveSo fancy urgeth me;My mind can not removeSuch is my constancy.My mind is nobly bentTho' I'm of low degree;Sweet lady, give consentTo love and pity me.These seven long years and moreStill have I loved thee;Do thou my joys restoreFair lady, pity me.
H.F.S.
musicmusic continued
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1O Adam was a ploughboy, when ploughing first begun,The next that did succeed him was Cain, his eldest son;Some of the generation the calling still pursue,That bread may not be wanting, they labour at the plough.2Samson was the strongest man, and Solomon was wise,And Alexander conquering, he made the world his prize,King David was a valiant man, and many thousands slew,Yet none of all these heroes bold could live without the plough.3Behold the wealthy merchant, that trades on foreign seas,And brings home gold and treasure, for such as live at ease,With spices and with cinnamon, and oranges also,They're brought us from the Indies, by virtue of the plough.4I hope there's none offended at me for singing this,For never I intended to sing you ought amiss.And if you well consider, you'll find the saying true,That all mankind dependeth upon the painful plough.
1O Adam was a ploughboy, when ploughing first begun,The next that did succeed him was Cain, his eldest son;Some of the generation the calling still pursue,That bread may not be wanting, they labour at the plough.2Samson was the strongest man, and Solomon was wise,And Alexander conquering, he made the world his prize,King David was a valiant man, and many thousands slew,Yet none of all these heroes bold could live without the plough.3Behold the wealthy merchant, that trades on foreign seas,And brings home gold and treasure, for such as live at ease,With spices and with cinnamon, and oranges also,They're brought us from the Indies, by virtue of the plough.4I hope there's none offended at me for singing this,For never I intended to sing you ought amiss.And if you well consider, you'll find the saying true,That all mankind dependeth upon the painful plough.
1
O Adam was a ploughboy, when ploughing first begun,The next that did succeed him was Cain, his eldest son;Some of the generation the calling still pursue,That bread may not be wanting, they labour at the plough.
2
Samson was the strongest man, and Solomon was wise,And Alexander conquering, he made the world his prize,King David was a valiant man, and many thousands slew,Yet none of all these heroes bold could live without the plough.
3
Behold the wealthy merchant, that trades on foreign seas,And brings home gold and treasure, for such as live at ease,With spices and with cinnamon, and oranges also,They're brought us from the Indies, by virtue of the plough.
4
I hope there's none offended at me for singing this,For never I intended to sing you ought amiss.And if you well consider, you'll find the saying true,That all mankind dependeth upon the painful plough.
C.J.S.
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1Come all you young fellows that carry a gun,Beware of late shooting when daylight is done;For 'tis little you reckon what hazards you run,I shot my true love at the setting of the sunIn a shower of rain as my darling did hieAll under the bushes to keep herself dry,With her head in her apron I thought her a swan,And I shot my true love at the setting of the sun.2I'll fly from my country, I nowhere find restI've shot my true love, like a bird in her nest.Like lead on my heart lies the deed I have done,I shot my true love at the setting of the sun.In a shower, etc.3In the night the fair maid as a white swan appears,She says, O my true love, quick dry up your tears,I freely forgive you, I have Paradise won,I was shot by my love at the setting of the sun.In a shower, etc.4O the years as they pass leave me lonely and sad,I can ne'er love another, and naught makes me glad.I wait and expect till life's little span doneI meet my true love at the rising of the sunIn a shower, etc.
1Come all you young fellows that carry a gun,Beware of late shooting when daylight is done;For 'tis little you reckon what hazards you run,I shot my true love at the setting of the sunIn a shower of rain as my darling did hieAll under the bushes to keep herself dry,With her head in her apron I thought her a swan,And I shot my true love at the setting of the sun.2I'll fly from my country, I nowhere find restI've shot my true love, like a bird in her nest.Like lead on my heart lies the deed I have done,I shot my true love at the setting of the sun.In a shower, etc.3In the night the fair maid as a white swan appears,She says, O my true love, quick dry up your tears,I freely forgive you, I have Paradise won,I was shot by my love at the setting of the sun.In a shower, etc.4O the years as they pass leave me lonely and sad,I can ne'er love another, and naught makes me glad.I wait and expect till life's little span doneI meet my true love at the rising of the sunIn a shower, etc.
1
Come all you young fellows that carry a gun,Beware of late shooting when daylight is done;For 'tis little you reckon what hazards you run,I shot my true love at the setting of the sunIn a shower of rain as my darling did hieAll under the bushes to keep herself dry,With her head in her apron I thought her a swan,And I shot my true love at the setting of the sun.
2
I'll fly from my country, I nowhere find restI've shot my true love, like a bird in her nest.Like lead on my heart lies the deed I have done,I shot my true love at the setting of the sun.In a shower, etc.
3
In the night the fair maid as a white swan appears,She says, O my true love, quick dry up your tears,I freely forgive you, I have Paradise won,I was shot by my love at the setting of the sun.In a shower, etc.
4
O the years as they pass leave me lonely and sad,I can ne'er love another, and naught makes me glad.I wait and expect till life's little span doneI meet my true love at the rising of the sunIn a shower, etc.
C.J.S.
music
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1'Twas early one morning at breaking of day,The cocks were a crowing, the farmer did say,Come, arise, my good fellows, arise with good will,For your horses want something their bellies to fill.With rubbing and scrubbing, I swear and I vow,That we're all jolly fellows that follow the plough.2We jump'd out of bed and slipp'd into our clothes,Away to the stable each merrily goes.When six o'clock cometh, to breakfast we go,To good bread and cheese and the best of stingo.With rubbing and scrubbing, I swear and I vow,That we're all jolly fellows that follow the plough.3When seven o'clock soundeth to work we do go,We hitch up our horses and halloo Wee Woo!At eight o' clock, lads, we are merry and bold,To see of us which the best furrow can hold.With rubbing and scrubbing, I swear and I vow,That we're all jolly fellows that follow the plough.4The farmer came to us, and thus did he say,"What have you been doing lads, all the long day?You've not ploughed your acre, I swear and I vow,You are all lazy fellows that follow the plough."With rubbing and scrubbing, I swear and I vow,That we're all jolly fellows that follow the plough.5The carter turns round with a twinkling eye,"We have all ploughed our acre, I tell you no lie,We have all ploughed our acre, I swear and I vow,So we're the right fellows that follow the plough."With rubbing and scrubbing, I swear and I vow,That we're all jolly fellows that follow the plough.6The farmer he laughed for he lovèd a joke"It is past two o'clock, boys, 'tis time to unyoke.Unharness your horses and rub them down well,And so I will give you a jug of brown ale."With rubbing and scrubbing, I swear and I vow,That we're all jolly fellows that follow the plough.7So, all my fine fellows, wherever you be,Come take my advice and be rulèd by me.Draw your furrows aright; plough your acre and knowThat such are the fellows to follow the plough.With rubbing and scrubbing, I swear and I vow,That we're all jolly fellows that follow the plough.
1'Twas early one morning at breaking of day,The cocks were a crowing, the farmer did say,Come, arise, my good fellows, arise with good will,For your horses want something their bellies to fill.With rubbing and scrubbing, I swear and I vow,That we're all jolly fellows that follow the plough.2We jump'd out of bed and slipp'd into our clothes,Away to the stable each merrily goes.When six o'clock cometh, to breakfast we go,To good bread and cheese and the best of stingo.With rubbing and scrubbing, I swear and I vow,That we're all jolly fellows that follow the plough.3When seven o'clock soundeth to work we do go,We hitch up our horses and halloo Wee Woo!At eight o' clock, lads, we are merry and bold,To see of us which the best furrow can hold.With rubbing and scrubbing, I swear and I vow,That we're all jolly fellows that follow the plough.4The farmer came to us, and thus did he say,"What have you been doing lads, all the long day?You've not ploughed your acre, I swear and I vow,You are all lazy fellows that follow the plough."With rubbing and scrubbing, I swear and I vow,That we're all jolly fellows that follow the plough.5The carter turns round with a twinkling eye,"We have all ploughed our acre, I tell you no lie,We have all ploughed our acre, I swear and I vow,So we're the right fellows that follow the plough."With rubbing and scrubbing, I swear and I vow,That we're all jolly fellows that follow the plough.6The farmer he laughed for he lovèd a joke"It is past two o'clock, boys, 'tis time to unyoke.Unharness your horses and rub them down well,And so I will give you a jug of brown ale."With rubbing and scrubbing, I swear and I vow,That we're all jolly fellows that follow the plough.7So, all my fine fellows, wherever you be,Come take my advice and be rulèd by me.Draw your furrows aright; plough your acre and knowThat such are the fellows to follow the plough.With rubbing and scrubbing, I swear and I vow,That we're all jolly fellows that follow the plough.
1
'Twas early one morning at breaking of day,The cocks were a crowing, the farmer did say,Come, arise, my good fellows, arise with good will,For your horses want something their bellies to fill.With rubbing and scrubbing, I swear and I vow,That we're all jolly fellows that follow the plough.
2
We jump'd out of bed and slipp'd into our clothes,Away to the stable each merrily goes.When six o'clock cometh, to breakfast we go,To good bread and cheese and the best of stingo.With rubbing and scrubbing, I swear and I vow,That we're all jolly fellows that follow the plough.
3
When seven o'clock soundeth to work we do go,We hitch up our horses and halloo Wee Woo!At eight o' clock, lads, we are merry and bold,To see of us which the best furrow can hold.With rubbing and scrubbing, I swear and I vow,That we're all jolly fellows that follow the plough.
4
The farmer came to us, and thus did he say,"What have you been doing lads, all the long day?You've not ploughed your acre, I swear and I vow,You are all lazy fellows that follow the plough."With rubbing and scrubbing, I swear and I vow,That we're all jolly fellows that follow the plough.
5
The carter turns round with a twinkling eye,"We have all ploughed our acre, I tell you no lie,We have all ploughed our acre, I swear and I vow,So we're the right fellows that follow the plough."With rubbing and scrubbing, I swear and I vow,That we're all jolly fellows that follow the plough.
6
The farmer he laughed for he lovèd a joke"It is past two o'clock, boys, 'tis time to unyoke.Unharness your horses and rub them down well,And so I will give you a jug of brown ale."With rubbing and scrubbing, I swear and I vow,That we're all jolly fellows that follow the plough.
7
So, all my fine fellows, wherever you be,Come take my advice and be rulèd by me.Draw your furrows aright; plough your acre and knowThat such are the fellows to follow the plough.With rubbing and scrubbing, I swear and I vow,That we're all jolly fellows that follow the plough.
C.J.S.
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1A ship I have got in the North CountryAnd she goes by the name of the Golden Vanity,O I fear she'll be taken by a Spanish Ga-la-lie,As she sails by the Low-lands low.2To the Captain then upspake the little Cabin-boy,He said, What is my fee, if the galley I destroy?The Spanish Ga-la-lie, if no more it shall annoy,As you sail by the Low-lands low.3Of silver and gold I will give to you a store;And my pretty little daughter that dwelleth on the shore,Of treasure and of fee as well, I'll give to thee galore,As we sail by the Low-lands low.4Then the boy bared his breast, and straightway leaped in,And he held all in his hand, an augur sharp and thin,And he swam until he came to the Spanish galleon,As she lay by the Low-lands low.5He bored with the augur, he bored once and twice,And some were playing cards, and some were playing dice,When the water flowed in it dazzled their eyes,And she sank by the Low-lands low.6[20]So the Cabin-boy did swim all to the larboard side,Saying Captain! take me in, I am drifting with the tide!I will shoot you! I will kill you! the cruel Captain cried,You may sink by the Low-lands low.7Then the Cabin-boy did swim all to the starboard sideSaying, Messmates take me in, I am drifting with the tide!Then they laid him on the deck, and he closed his eyes and died,As they sailed by the Low-lands low.8[21]They sewed his body up, all in an old cow's hide,And they cast the gallant cabin-boy, over the ship's side,And left him without more ado adrifting with the tide,And to sink by the Low-lands low.
1A ship I have got in the North CountryAnd she goes by the name of the Golden Vanity,O I fear she'll be taken by a Spanish Ga-la-lie,As she sails by the Low-lands low.2To the Captain then upspake the little Cabin-boy,He said, What is my fee, if the galley I destroy?The Spanish Ga-la-lie, if no more it shall annoy,As you sail by the Low-lands low.3Of silver and gold I will give to you a store;And my pretty little daughter that dwelleth on the shore,Of treasure and of fee as well, I'll give to thee galore,As we sail by the Low-lands low.4Then the boy bared his breast, and straightway leaped in,And he held all in his hand, an augur sharp and thin,And he swam until he came to the Spanish galleon,As she lay by the Low-lands low.5He bored with the augur, he bored once and twice,And some were playing cards, and some were playing dice,When the water flowed in it dazzled their eyes,And she sank by the Low-lands low.6[20]So the Cabin-boy did swim all to the larboard side,Saying Captain! take me in, I am drifting with the tide!I will shoot you! I will kill you! the cruel Captain cried,You may sink by the Low-lands low.7Then the Cabin-boy did swim all to the starboard sideSaying, Messmates take me in, I am drifting with the tide!Then they laid him on the deck, and he closed his eyes and died,As they sailed by the Low-lands low.8[21]They sewed his body up, all in an old cow's hide,And they cast the gallant cabin-boy, over the ship's side,And left him without more ado adrifting with the tide,And to sink by the Low-lands low.
1
A ship I have got in the North CountryAnd she goes by the name of the Golden Vanity,O I fear she'll be taken by a Spanish Ga-la-lie,As she sails by the Low-lands low.
2
To the Captain then upspake the little Cabin-boy,He said, What is my fee, if the galley I destroy?The Spanish Ga-la-lie, if no more it shall annoy,As you sail by the Low-lands low.
3
Of silver and gold I will give to you a store;And my pretty little daughter that dwelleth on the shore,Of treasure and of fee as well, I'll give to thee galore,As we sail by the Low-lands low.
4
Then the boy bared his breast, and straightway leaped in,And he held all in his hand, an augur sharp and thin,And he swam until he came to the Spanish galleon,As she lay by the Low-lands low.
5
He bored with the augur, he bored once and twice,And some were playing cards, and some were playing dice,When the water flowed in it dazzled their eyes,And she sank by the Low-lands low.
6[20]
So the Cabin-boy did swim all to the larboard side,Saying Captain! take me in, I am drifting with the tide!I will shoot you! I will kill you! the cruel Captain cried,You may sink by the Low-lands low.
7
Then the Cabin-boy did swim all to the starboard sideSaying, Messmates take me in, I am drifting with the tide!Then they laid him on the deck, and he closed his eyes and died,As they sailed by the Low-lands low.
8[21]
They sewed his body up, all in an old cow's hide,And they cast the gallant cabin-boy, over the ship's side,And left him without more ado adrifting with the tide,And to sink by the Low-lands low.
H.F.S.
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1A bold dragoon from out of the North,To a lady's house came riding;With clank of steel, and spur at his heel,His consequence noways hiding."Bring forth good cheer, tap claret and beer,For here I think of abiding,Abiding, Abiding.2"The chamber best with arras be dress'dI intend to be comfortable.Such troopers as we always make ourselves free,Heigh!—lead my horse to the stable!Give him corn and hay, but for me Tockay,We'll eat and drink whilst able,Able, aye! Able.3"The daintiest meat upon silver plate,And wine that sparkles and fizzes.Wax candles light, make the chamber bright,And—as soldiers love sweet Misses,My moustache I curl with an extra twirl,The better to give you kisses,Kisses, aye! Kisses."4"There's cake and wine," said the lady fine,"There's oats for the horse, and litter.There's silver plate, there are servants to wait,And drinks, sweet, sparkling, bitter.Tho, bacon and pease, aye! and mouldy cheese,For such as you were fitter,Fitter aye! Fitter.5"Your distance keep, I esteem you cheapTho' your wishes I've granted, partly.But no kisses for me from a Chimpanzee,"The lady responded tartly."Why! a rude dragoon is a mere Baboon."And she boxed his ears full smartly,Smartly, aye! smartly.
1A bold dragoon from out of the North,To a lady's house came riding;With clank of steel, and spur at his heel,His consequence noways hiding."Bring forth good cheer, tap claret and beer,For here I think of abiding,Abiding, Abiding.2"The chamber best with arras be dress'dI intend to be comfortable.Such troopers as we always make ourselves free,Heigh!—lead my horse to the stable!Give him corn and hay, but for me Tockay,We'll eat and drink whilst able,Able, aye! Able.3"The daintiest meat upon silver plate,And wine that sparkles and fizzes.Wax candles light, make the chamber bright,And—as soldiers love sweet Misses,My moustache I curl with an extra twirl,The better to give you kisses,Kisses, aye! Kisses."4"There's cake and wine," said the lady fine,"There's oats for the horse, and litter.There's silver plate, there are servants to wait,And drinks, sweet, sparkling, bitter.Tho, bacon and pease, aye! and mouldy cheese,For such as you were fitter,Fitter aye! Fitter.5"Your distance keep, I esteem you cheapTho' your wishes I've granted, partly.But no kisses for me from a Chimpanzee,"The lady responded tartly."Why! a rude dragoon is a mere Baboon."And she boxed his ears full smartly,Smartly, aye! smartly.
1
A bold dragoon from out of the North,To a lady's house came riding;With clank of steel, and spur at his heel,His consequence noways hiding."Bring forth good cheer, tap claret and beer,For here I think of abiding,Abiding, Abiding.
2
"The chamber best with arras be dress'dI intend to be comfortable.Such troopers as we always make ourselves free,Heigh!—lead my horse to the stable!Give him corn and hay, but for me Tockay,We'll eat and drink whilst able,Able, aye! Able.
3
"The daintiest meat upon silver plate,And wine that sparkles and fizzes.Wax candles light, make the chamber bright,And—as soldiers love sweet Misses,My moustache I curl with an extra twirl,The better to give you kisses,Kisses, aye! Kisses."
4
"There's cake and wine," said the lady fine,"There's oats for the horse, and litter.There's silver plate, there are servants to wait,And drinks, sweet, sparkling, bitter.Tho, bacon and pease, aye! and mouldy cheese,For such as you were fitter,Fitter aye! Fitter.
5
"Your distance keep, I esteem you cheapTho' your wishes I've granted, partly.But no kisses for me from a Chimpanzee,"The lady responded tartly."Why! a rude dragoon is a mere Baboon."And she boxed his ears full smartly,Smartly, aye! smartly.
H.F.S.
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1When bites the frost and winds are a blowing,I do not heed, I do not care;If Johnny's by me, what if it be snowing.'Tis summer time with me all the year.2The icicles they may hang on the fountain,And frozen over the farm yard pool.The bleak wind whistle across the mountain,No wintry blast our love can cool.3O what to me the wind and the weather?O what to me the wind and the rain?My Johnny loves me, and being together,Why let it bluster—it blows in vain.4I never tire, I never am weary,I drudge and think it is only play;As Johnny loves me, and I am his deary,Why—all the year it is holiday.5I shall be wed upon Trinity Sunday,And then adieu to my holiday.Come frost and frown the following Monday.Why then beginneth my workaday.6If drudge and smudge begins on the Monday,If scold and grumble—I do not care,My winter follow Trinity Sunday.I can't have summertime all the year.
1When bites the frost and winds are a blowing,I do not heed, I do not care;If Johnny's by me, what if it be snowing.'Tis summer time with me all the year.2The icicles they may hang on the fountain,And frozen over the farm yard pool.The bleak wind whistle across the mountain,No wintry blast our love can cool.3O what to me the wind and the weather?O what to me the wind and the rain?My Johnny loves me, and being together,Why let it bluster—it blows in vain.4I never tire, I never am weary,I drudge and think it is only play;As Johnny loves me, and I am his deary,Why—all the year it is holiday.5I shall be wed upon Trinity Sunday,And then adieu to my holiday.Come frost and frown the following Monday.Why then beginneth my workaday.6If drudge and smudge begins on the Monday,If scold and grumble—I do not care,My winter follow Trinity Sunday.I can't have summertime all the year.
1
When bites the frost and winds are a blowing,I do not heed, I do not care;If Johnny's by me, what if it be snowing.'Tis summer time with me all the year.
2
The icicles they may hang on the fountain,And frozen over the farm yard pool.The bleak wind whistle across the mountain,No wintry blast our love can cool.
3
O what to me the wind and the weather?O what to me the wind and the rain?My Johnny loves me, and being together,Why let it bluster—it blows in vain.
4
I never tire, I never am weary,I drudge and think it is only play;As Johnny loves me, and I am his deary,Why—all the year it is holiday.
5
I shall be wed upon Trinity Sunday,And then adieu to my holiday.Come frost and frown the following Monday.Why then beginneth my workaday.
6
If drudge and smudge begins on the Monday,If scold and grumble—I do not care,My winter follow Trinity Sunday.I can't have summertime all the year.
C.J.S.
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1All under the stars, and beneath the green tree,All over the sward, and along the cold lea,A little blue flameA fluttering came,It came from the churchyard for you or for me.2I sit by the cradle, my baby's asleep,And rocking the cradle, I wonder and weep.O little blue light,In the dead of the night,O prithee, O prithee no nearer to creep.3Why follow the church path, why steal you this way?Why halt in your journey, on threshold why stay?With flicker and flare,Why dance up my stair!O I would, O I would, it were dawning of day.4All under the stars, and along the green lane,Unslaked by the dew, and unquenched by the rain,Of little flames blueTo the churchyard steal two,The soul of my baby! now from me is ta'en.
1All under the stars, and beneath the green tree,All over the sward, and along the cold lea,A little blue flameA fluttering came,It came from the churchyard for you or for me.2I sit by the cradle, my baby's asleep,And rocking the cradle, I wonder and weep.O little blue light,In the dead of the night,O prithee, O prithee no nearer to creep.3Why follow the church path, why steal you this way?Why halt in your journey, on threshold why stay?With flicker and flare,Why dance up my stair!O I would, O I would, it were dawning of day.4All under the stars, and along the green lane,Unslaked by the dew, and unquenched by the rain,Of little flames blueTo the churchyard steal two,The soul of my baby! now from me is ta'en.
1
All under the stars, and beneath the green tree,All over the sward, and along the cold lea,A little blue flameA fluttering came,It came from the churchyard for you or for me.
2
I sit by the cradle, my baby's asleep,And rocking the cradle, I wonder and weep.O little blue light,In the dead of the night,O prithee, O prithee no nearer to creep.
3
Why follow the church path, why steal you this way?Why halt in your journey, on threshold why stay?With flicker and flare,Why dance up my stair!O I would, O I would, it were dawning of day.
4
All under the stars, and along the green lane,Unslaked by the dew, and unquenched by the rain,Of little flames blueTo the churchyard steal two,The soul of my baby! now from me is ta'en.
H.F.S.
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1As I was going to Strawberry Fair,Singing, singing, Butter-cups and DaisiesI met a maiden taking her ware,Fol-de-dee!Her eyes were blue and golden her hair,As she went on to Strawberry Fair,Ri-fol, Ri-fol, Tol-de-riddle-li-do,Ri-fol, Ri-fol, Tol-de-riddle-dee.2"Kind Sir, pray pick of my basket!" she said,Singing, &c."My cherries ripe, or my roses red,Fol-de-dee!My strawberries sweet, I can of them spare,As I go on to Strawberry Fair."Ri-fol &c.3Your cherries soon will be wasted away,Singing, &c.Your roses wither and never stay,Tol-de-dee!'Tis not to seek such perishing ware,That I am tramping to Strawberry Fair.Ri-fol &c.4I want to purchase a generous heart,Singing, &c.A tongue that neither is nimble nor tart.Tol-de-dee!An honest mind, but such trifles are rareI doubt if they're found at Strawberry Fair.Ri-fol &c.5The price I offer, my sweet pretty maidSinging, &c.A ring of gold on your finger displayed,Tol-de-dee!So come make over to me your ware,In church today at Strawberry Fair.Ri-fol &c.
1As I was going to Strawberry Fair,Singing, singing, Butter-cups and DaisiesI met a maiden taking her ware,Fol-de-dee!Her eyes were blue and golden her hair,As she went on to Strawberry Fair,Ri-fol, Ri-fol, Tol-de-riddle-li-do,Ri-fol, Ri-fol, Tol-de-riddle-dee.2"Kind Sir, pray pick of my basket!" she said,Singing, &c."My cherries ripe, or my roses red,Fol-de-dee!My strawberries sweet, I can of them spare,As I go on to Strawberry Fair."Ri-fol &c.3Your cherries soon will be wasted away,Singing, &c.Your roses wither and never stay,Tol-de-dee!'Tis not to seek such perishing ware,That I am tramping to Strawberry Fair.Ri-fol &c.4I want to purchase a generous heart,Singing, &c.A tongue that neither is nimble nor tart.Tol-de-dee!An honest mind, but such trifles are rareI doubt if they're found at Strawberry Fair.Ri-fol &c.5The price I offer, my sweet pretty maidSinging, &c.A ring of gold on your finger displayed,Tol-de-dee!So come make over to me your ware,In church today at Strawberry Fair.Ri-fol &c.
1
As I was going to Strawberry Fair,Singing, singing, Butter-cups and DaisiesI met a maiden taking her ware,Fol-de-dee!Her eyes were blue and golden her hair,As she went on to Strawberry Fair,Ri-fol, Ri-fol, Tol-de-riddle-li-do,Ri-fol, Ri-fol, Tol-de-riddle-dee.
2
"Kind Sir, pray pick of my basket!" she said,Singing, &c."My cherries ripe, or my roses red,Fol-de-dee!My strawberries sweet, I can of them spare,As I go on to Strawberry Fair."Ri-fol &c.
3
Your cherries soon will be wasted away,Singing, &c.Your roses wither and never stay,Tol-de-dee!'Tis not to seek such perishing ware,That I am tramping to Strawberry Fair.Ri-fol &c.
4
I want to purchase a generous heart,Singing, &c.A tongue that neither is nimble nor tart.Tol-de-dee!An honest mind, but such trifles are rareI doubt if they're found at Strawberry Fair.Ri-fol &c.
5
The price I offer, my sweet pretty maidSinging, &c.A ring of gold on your finger displayed,Tol-de-dee!So come make over to me your ware,In church today at Strawberry Fair.Ri-fol &c.
H.F.S.
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1I would not be a monarch great;With crown upon my head,And Earls to wait upon my state,In broidered robes of red.For he must bear full many a care,His toil is never done,'Tis better I trow behind the plough,A Country Farmer's Son.2[22]I would not be the Pope of Rome,And sit in Peter's chair;With priests to bow and kiss my toe,No wife my throne to share.And never know what 'tis to go,With beagles for a run;'Tis better for me at libertyA Country Farmer's Son.3I would not be a merchant rich,And eat off silver plate.And ever dread, when laid abedSome freakish turn of fate.One day on high, then ruin nigh,Now wealthy, now undone,'Tis better for me at ease to beA Country Farmer's Son.4I trudge about the farm, all day,To know that all things thrive.A maid I see that pleaseth me,Why then I'm fain to wive.Not over rich, I do not itch,For wealth, but what is won,By honest toil, from out the soil,A Country Farmer's Son.
1I would not be a monarch great;With crown upon my head,And Earls to wait upon my state,In broidered robes of red.For he must bear full many a care,His toil is never done,'Tis better I trow behind the plough,A Country Farmer's Son.2[22]I would not be the Pope of Rome,And sit in Peter's chair;With priests to bow and kiss my toe,No wife my throne to share.And never know what 'tis to go,With beagles for a run;'Tis better for me at libertyA Country Farmer's Son.3I would not be a merchant rich,And eat off silver plate.And ever dread, when laid abedSome freakish turn of fate.One day on high, then ruin nigh,Now wealthy, now undone,'Tis better for me at ease to beA Country Farmer's Son.4I trudge about the farm, all day,To know that all things thrive.A maid I see that pleaseth me,Why then I'm fain to wive.Not over rich, I do not itch,For wealth, but what is won,By honest toil, from out the soil,A Country Farmer's Son.
1
I would not be a monarch great;With crown upon my head,And Earls to wait upon my state,In broidered robes of red.For he must bear full many a care,His toil is never done,'Tis better I trow behind the plough,A Country Farmer's Son.
2[22]
I would not be the Pope of Rome,And sit in Peter's chair;With priests to bow and kiss my toe,No wife my throne to share.And never know what 'tis to go,With beagles for a run;'Tis better for me at libertyA Country Farmer's Son.
3
I would not be a merchant rich,And eat off silver plate.And ever dread, when laid abedSome freakish turn of fate.One day on high, then ruin nigh,Now wealthy, now undone,'Tis better for me at ease to beA Country Farmer's Son.
4
I trudge about the farm, all day,To know that all things thrive.A maid I see that pleaseth me,Why then I'm fain to wive.Not over rich, I do not itch,For wealth, but what is won,By honest toil, from out the soil,A Country Farmer's Son.
H.F.S.
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