A String of Broken Beads; or, Jingles from Favorite Authors.Oh, with what pride I usedTo walk these hills, and look up to my God,And bless him that the land was free. ’Twas free—From end to end, from cliff to lake, ’twas free!Free as our torrents are that leap our rocks,And plow our valleys, without asking leave!Or as our peaks that wear their caps of snowIn very presence of the Light Brigade.Cannon to right of them,Cannon to left of them,Cannon in front of them,All a gwine into the ark.And there was the elephant-ah, that g-r-e-a-t animal-ah of which Goldsmith describes in his Animated Nater-ah, which is as big as a house-ah, and his bones as big as a tree-ah, depending somewhat upon the size of the tree-ah; and there was Shem, and there was Ham, and there was Japhet-ah, a-l-l a-gwine into the show-room.The auctioneer then in his labor began;And called out aloud as he held up a man,How much for a bachelor, who wants to buy?In a twinkling each maiden responded, “I—I!”In short, at a hugely extravagant price,The bachelors all were sold off in a trice,And forty old maidens—some younger, some older—Each lugged an old bachelor home on her shoulder.But scarce had the honeymoon passed o’er their heads,When one morning to Zantippe, Socrates said,“I think for a man of my standing in life,This house is too small as I now have a wife:So without further delay Carpenter CaryShall be sent for to widen my house and my dairy.”“Now, Socrates, dearest,” Zantippe replied,“I hate to hear everything vulgarly my’d;Now, whenever you speak of your chattles again,Sayourcowhouse,ourbarn-yard;ourpig-pen.”“By your leave Mrs. Snooks, I’ll say what I pleaseOfmyhouses,mylands,mygardens,mytrees.”Then he thought of his sisters, proud and cold,And his mother vain of her rank and gold.So, closing his heart, the judge rode on,And Maud was left in the fields alone.But the lawyers smiled that afternoon,When he hummed in court the Bugle Song.Oh, love, they die in yon fair sky,They faint on field, and hill, and river;Our echoes roll from soul to soul,And grow forever and forever.Blow, bugle, blow, set the wild echoes flying,Answer, echoes, answer.Hark! how the sign-board creaks! the blast howls by!Moan! moan! a dirge swells through the angry sky!Ha! tis his knock! he comes, he comes once more—Ha, ha! Take that! and that! and that!Ha, ha! So, through your coward throatThe full day shines!... Two fox tails floatAnd drift and drive adown the stream;Therefore, my bruddren, if you’s a-gwine to git saved, you’s got to git aboard de Ship of Faith. Dere ain’t no udder way my bruddren. Dere ain’t no gitting up de back stairs, nor goin’ ’cross lots, you’s got to git aboard de Ship of Faith, forMe thought I heard a voice cry ‘Sleep no more!’ to all the house,Glamis hath murdered sleep, and therefore,Cawdor shall sleep no more!Then, methought the air grew denser, perfumed from an unseen censor,Swung by seraphim, whose footfalls twinkled on the tufted floor.“Wretch,” I cried, “Thy God hath lent thee by these angels he hath sent theeRespite—respite and nepenthe from thy memories of Lenore!Quaff, oh, quaff, this kind nepenthe and forget this lost Lenore!’Quoth the raven—Good night.—Arranged by F. Lizzie Peirce.
A String of Broken Beads; or, Jingles from Favorite Authors.Oh, with what pride I usedTo walk these hills, and look up to my God,And bless him that the land was free. ’Twas free—From end to end, from cliff to lake, ’twas free!Free as our torrents are that leap our rocks,And plow our valleys, without asking leave!Or as our peaks that wear their caps of snowIn very presence of the Light Brigade.Cannon to right of them,Cannon to left of them,Cannon in front of them,All a gwine into the ark.And there was the elephant-ah, that g-r-e-a-t animal-ah of which Goldsmith describes in his Animated Nater-ah, which is as big as a house-ah, and his bones as big as a tree-ah, depending somewhat upon the size of the tree-ah; and there was Shem, and there was Ham, and there was Japhet-ah, a-l-l a-gwine into the show-room.The auctioneer then in his labor began;And called out aloud as he held up a man,How much for a bachelor, who wants to buy?In a twinkling each maiden responded, “I—I!”In short, at a hugely extravagant price,The bachelors all were sold off in a trice,And forty old maidens—some younger, some older—Each lugged an old bachelor home on her shoulder.But scarce had the honeymoon passed o’er their heads,When one morning to Zantippe, Socrates said,“I think for a man of my standing in life,This house is too small as I now have a wife:So without further delay Carpenter CaryShall be sent for to widen my house and my dairy.”“Now, Socrates, dearest,” Zantippe replied,“I hate to hear everything vulgarly my’d;Now, whenever you speak of your chattles again,Sayourcowhouse,ourbarn-yard;ourpig-pen.”“By your leave Mrs. Snooks, I’ll say what I pleaseOfmyhouses,mylands,mygardens,mytrees.”Then he thought of his sisters, proud and cold,And his mother vain of her rank and gold.So, closing his heart, the judge rode on,And Maud was left in the fields alone.But the lawyers smiled that afternoon,When he hummed in court the Bugle Song.Oh, love, they die in yon fair sky,They faint on field, and hill, and river;Our echoes roll from soul to soul,And grow forever and forever.Blow, bugle, blow, set the wild echoes flying,Answer, echoes, answer.Hark! how the sign-board creaks! the blast howls by!Moan! moan! a dirge swells through the angry sky!Ha! tis his knock! he comes, he comes once more—Ha, ha! Take that! and that! and that!Ha, ha! So, through your coward throatThe full day shines!... Two fox tails floatAnd drift and drive adown the stream;Therefore, my bruddren, if you’s a-gwine to git saved, you’s got to git aboard de Ship of Faith. Dere ain’t no udder way my bruddren. Dere ain’t no gitting up de back stairs, nor goin’ ’cross lots, you’s got to git aboard de Ship of Faith, forMe thought I heard a voice cry ‘Sleep no more!’ to all the house,Glamis hath murdered sleep, and therefore,Cawdor shall sleep no more!Then, methought the air grew denser, perfumed from an unseen censor,Swung by seraphim, whose footfalls twinkled on the tufted floor.“Wretch,” I cried, “Thy God hath lent thee by these angels he hath sent theeRespite—respite and nepenthe from thy memories of Lenore!Quaff, oh, quaff, this kind nepenthe and forget this lost Lenore!’Quoth the raven—Good night.—Arranged by F. Lizzie Peirce.
Oh, with what pride I usedTo walk these hills, and look up to my God,And bless him that the land was free. ’Twas free—From end to end, from cliff to lake, ’twas free!Free as our torrents are that leap our rocks,And plow our valleys, without asking leave!Or as our peaks that wear their caps of snowIn very presence of the Light Brigade.Cannon to right of them,Cannon to left of them,Cannon in front of them,All a gwine into the ark.
Oh, with what pride I usedTo walk these hills, and look up to my God,And bless him that the land was free. ’Twas free—From end to end, from cliff to lake, ’twas free!Free as our torrents are that leap our rocks,And plow our valleys, without asking leave!Or as our peaks that wear their caps of snowIn very presence of the Light Brigade.Cannon to right of them,Cannon to left of them,Cannon in front of them,All a gwine into the ark.
Oh, with what pride I used
To walk these hills, and look up to my God,
And bless him that the land was free. ’Twas free—
From end to end, from cliff to lake, ’twas free!
Free as our torrents are that leap our rocks,
And plow our valleys, without asking leave!
Or as our peaks that wear their caps of snow
In very presence of the Light Brigade.
Cannon to right of them,Cannon to left of them,Cannon in front of them,All a gwine into the ark.
Cannon to right of them,
Cannon to left of them,
Cannon in front of them,
All a gwine into the ark.
And there was the elephant-ah, that g-r-e-a-t animal-ah of which Goldsmith describes in his Animated Nater-ah, which is as big as a house-ah, and his bones as big as a tree-ah, depending somewhat upon the size of the tree-ah; and there was Shem, and there was Ham, and there was Japhet-ah, a-l-l a-gwine into the show-room.
The auctioneer then in his labor began;And called out aloud as he held up a man,How much for a bachelor, who wants to buy?In a twinkling each maiden responded, “I—I!”In short, at a hugely extravagant price,The bachelors all were sold off in a trice,And forty old maidens—some younger, some older—Each lugged an old bachelor home on her shoulder.But scarce had the honeymoon passed o’er their heads,When one morning to Zantippe, Socrates said,“I think for a man of my standing in life,This house is too small as I now have a wife:So without further delay Carpenter CaryShall be sent for to widen my house and my dairy.”“Now, Socrates, dearest,” Zantippe replied,“I hate to hear everything vulgarly my’d;Now, whenever you speak of your chattles again,Sayourcowhouse,ourbarn-yard;ourpig-pen.”“By your leave Mrs. Snooks, I’ll say what I pleaseOfmyhouses,mylands,mygardens,mytrees.”Then he thought of his sisters, proud and cold,And his mother vain of her rank and gold.So, closing his heart, the judge rode on,And Maud was left in the fields alone.But the lawyers smiled that afternoon,When he hummed in court the Bugle Song.Oh, love, they die in yon fair sky,They faint on field, and hill, and river;Our echoes roll from soul to soul,And grow forever and forever.Blow, bugle, blow, set the wild echoes flying,Answer, echoes, answer.Hark! how the sign-board creaks! the blast howls by!Moan! moan! a dirge swells through the angry sky!Ha! tis his knock! he comes, he comes once more—Ha, ha! Take that! and that! and that!Ha, ha! So, through your coward throatThe full day shines!... Two fox tails floatAnd drift and drive adown the stream;
The auctioneer then in his labor began;And called out aloud as he held up a man,How much for a bachelor, who wants to buy?In a twinkling each maiden responded, “I—I!”In short, at a hugely extravagant price,The bachelors all were sold off in a trice,And forty old maidens—some younger, some older—Each lugged an old bachelor home on her shoulder.But scarce had the honeymoon passed o’er their heads,When one morning to Zantippe, Socrates said,“I think for a man of my standing in life,This house is too small as I now have a wife:So without further delay Carpenter CaryShall be sent for to widen my house and my dairy.”“Now, Socrates, dearest,” Zantippe replied,“I hate to hear everything vulgarly my’d;Now, whenever you speak of your chattles again,Sayourcowhouse,ourbarn-yard;ourpig-pen.”“By your leave Mrs. Snooks, I’ll say what I pleaseOfmyhouses,mylands,mygardens,mytrees.”Then he thought of his sisters, proud and cold,And his mother vain of her rank and gold.So, closing his heart, the judge rode on,And Maud was left in the fields alone.But the lawyers smiled that afternoon,When he hummed in court the Bugle Song.Oh, love, they die in yon fair sky,They faint on field, and hill, and river;Our echoes roll from soul to soul,And grow forever and forever.Blow, bugle, blow, set the wild echoes flying,Answer, echoes, answer.Hark! how the sign-board creaks! the blast howls by!Moan! moan! a dirge swells through the angry sky!Ha! tis his knock! he comes, he comes once more—Ha, ha! Take that! and that! and that!Ha, ha! So, through your coward throatThe full day shines!... Two fox tails floatAnd drift and drive adown the stream;
The auctioneer then in his labor began;
And called out aloud as he held up a man,
How much for a bachelor, who wants to buy?
In a twinkling each maiden responded, “I—I!”
In short, at a hugely extravagant price,
The bachelors all were sold off in a trice,
And forty old maidens—some younger, some older—
Each lugged an old bachelor home on her shoulder.
But scarce had the honeymoon passed o’er their heads,
When one morning to Zantippe, Socrates said,
“I think for a man of my standing in life,
This house is too small as I now have a wife:
So without further delay Carpenter Cary
Shall be sent for to widen my house and my dairy.”
“Now, Socrates, dearest,” Zantippe replied,
“I hate to hear everything vulgarly my’d;
Now, whenever you speak of your chattles again,
Sayourcowhouse,ourbarn-yard;ourpig-pen.”
“By your leave Mrs. Snooks, I’ll say what I please
Ofmyhouses,mylands,mygardens,mytrees.”
Then he thought of his sisters, proud and cold,
And his mother vain of her rank and gold.
So, closing his heart, the judge rode on,
And Maud was left in the fields alone.
But the lawyers smiled that afternoon,
When he hummed in court the Bugle Song.
Oh, love, they die in yon fair sky,
They faint on field, and hill, and river;
Our echoes roll from soul to soul,
And grow forever and forever.
Blow, bugle, blow, set the wild echoes flying,
Answer, echoes, answer.
Hark! how the sign-board creaks! the blast howls by!
Moan! moan! a dirge swells through the angry sky!
Ha! tis his knock! he comes, he comes once more—
Ha, ha! Take that! and that! and that!
Ha, ha! So, through your coward throat
The full day shines!... Two fox tails float
And drift and drive adown the stream;
Therefore, my bruddren, if you’s a-gwine to git saved, you’s got to git aboard de Ship of Faith. Dere ain’t no udder way my bruddren. Dere ain’t no gitting up de back stairs, nor goin’ ’cross lots, you’s got to git aboard de Ship of Faith, for
Me thought I heard a voice cry ‘Sleep no more!’ to all the house,Glamis hath murdered sleep, and therefore,Cawdor shall sleep no more!Then, methought the air grew denser, perfumed from an unseen censor,Swung by seraphim, whose footfalls twinkled on the tufted floor.“Wretch,” I cried, “Thy God hath lent thee by these angels he hath sent theeRespite—respite and nepenthe from thy memories of Lenore!Quaff, oh, quaff, this kind nepenthe and forget this lost Lenore!’Quoth the raven—Good night.—Arranged by F. Lizzie Peirce.
Me thought I heard a voice cry ‘Sleep no more!’ to all the house,Glamis hath murdered sleep, and therefore,Cawdor shall sleep no more!Then, methought the air grew denser, perfumed from an unseen censor,Swung by seraphim, whose footfalls twinkled on the tufted floor.“Wretch,” I cried, “Thy God hath lent thee by these angels he hath sent theeRespite—respite and nepenthe from thy memories of Lenore!Quaff, oh, quaff, this kind nepenthe and forget this lost Lenore!’Quoth the raven—Good night.—Arranged by F. Lizzie Peirce.
Me thought I heard a voice cry ‘Sleep no more!’ to all the house,
Glamis hath murdered sleep, and therefore,
Cawdor shall sleep no more!
Then, methought the air grew denser, perfumed from an unseen censor,
Swung by seraphim, whose footfalls twinkled on the tufted floor.
“Wretch,” I cried, “Thy God hath lent thee by these angels he hath sent thee
Respite—respite and nepenthe from thy memories of Lenore!
Quaff, oh, quaff, this kind nepenthe and forget this lost Lenore!’
Quoth the raven—Good night.
—Arranged by F. Lizzie Peirce.