The Royal Minstrel: Or, Melodist's Pocket Songster; a Choice Collection of Standard and Popular SongsJ.S. Pratt, 1844 - 320 páginas |
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Página 9
... never loved The summer gale that gently blows Drink to me only with thine eyes Saint Patrick was a gentleman Loud roared the dreadful thunder 63 .. 64 ib . 65 .. .. 66 .. ib . .. 67 ib . 68 69 70 ib . 71 73 74 .. ib . 75 76 77 ib . 78 ...
... never loved The summer gale that gently blows Drink to me only with thine eyes Saint Patrick was a gentleman Loud roared the dreadful thunder 63 .. 64 ib . 65 .. .. 66 .. ib . .. 67 ib . 68 69 70 ib . 71 73 74 .. ib . 75 76 77 ib . 78 ...
Página 12
... never been false 155 From England when with fav'ring 156 Water parted from the sea 157 Bound prentice to a waterman Love's a plague by night and day ib . 158 When Steerwell heard me first impart 160 PAGE . As beautiful Kitty 161 How ...
... never been false 155 From England when with fav'ring 156 Water parted from the sea 157 Bound prentice to a waterman Love's a plague by night and day ib . 158 When Steerwell heard me first impart 160 PAGE . As beautiful Kitty 161 How ...
Página 17
... never mention her He was a knight of low degree Our bugles sung truce Not a drum was heard Hurrah , o'er Hounslow Heath to roam By the margin of fair Zurich's waters Behold how brightly breaks Ye banks and braes There's auld Rob Morris ...
... never mention her He was a knight of low degree Our bugles sung truce Not a drum was heard Hurrah , o'er Hounslow Heath to roam By the margin of fair Zurich's waters Behold how brightly breaks Ye banks and braes There's auld Rob Morris ...
Página 22
... never shall send our ancient friend , To be toss'd on the stormy sea . Then here's , & c . COME , DWELL WITH ME . Come , dwell with me , come , dwell with me , And our home shall be , and our home shall be , A pleasant cot in a tranquil ...
... never shall send our ancient friend , To be toss'd on the stormy sea . Then here's , & c . COME , DWELL WITH ME . Come , dwell with me , come , dwell with me , And our home shall be , and our home shall be , A pleasant cot in a tranquil ...
Página 25
... never bid me part from thee . Bid me encounter vulgar scorn , And hopeless of relief , Bid me awake each sadden'd morn , To feed the source of grief : Bid me from pomp and splendour flee , But never bid me part from thee . Bid me o'er ...
... never bid me part from thee . Bid me encounter vulgar scorn , And hopeless of relief , Bid me awake each sadden'd morn , To feed the source of grief : Bid me from pomp and splendour flee , But never bid me part from thee . Bid me o'er ...
Contenido
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Términos y frases comunes
Adieu Bay of Biscay beauty blest blooming blow body kiss bonny bosom brave breast breath bright Brown Bess Captain charms cheek cheer Crazy Jane cried dear delight Derry drink e'er fair flower Fol deriddle lol friends gale gallant girl grog hark heart heaven Heigh Invermay John Anderson jolly kiss lady lark lass lassie life's live lov'd lover maid Mary merry mild ale Miss Rum Molly Malone morn ne'er never night o'er pleasure poor POST CAPTAIN pretty Rag Fair rest thee ring roar rose round Rum tum diddle-um sail sailors shore sigh sing sleep smile soft song soon sorrow soul storm sure sweet sweetly tears tell there's thou thought tis love Tol de rol true Twas twill vex'd whistle wife wind wine young youth
Pasajes populares
Página 24 - John Anderson my jo. John Anderson my jo, John, We clamb the hill thegither ; And mony a canty day, John, We've had wi' ane anither : Now we maun totter down, John, But hand in hand we'll go, And sleep thegither at the foot, John Anderson my jo.
Página 304 - By the struggling moonbeam's misty light, And the lantern dimly burning. No useless coffin enclosed his breast, Not in sheet nor in shroud we wound him; But he lay like a warrior taking his rest, With his martial cloak around him.
Página 28 - OUR band is few but true and tried, Our leader frank and bold ; The British soldier trembles When Marion's name is told. Our fortress is the good greenwood, Our tent the cypress-tree ; We know the forest round us, As seamen know the sea.
Página 62 - They name thee before me, A knell to mine ear; A shudder comes o'er me — Why wert thou so dear ? They know not I knew thee, Who knew thee too well: — Long, long shall I rue thee, Too deeply to tell.
Página 186 - O' my sweet Highland Mary. How sweetly bloom'd the gay green birk, How rich the hawthorn's blossom, As underneath their fragrant shade I clasp'd her to my bosom ! The golden hours on angel wings Flew o'er me and my dearie; For dear to me as light and life Was my sweet Highland Mary. Wi' mony a vow and lock'd embrace Our parting was fu' tender; And pledging aft to meet again, We tore oursels asunder; But, Oh!
Página 71 - 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.
Página 167 - The cord slides swiftly through his glowing hands. And quick as lightning on the deck he stands. So the sweet lark, high poised in air. Shuts close his pinions to his breast (If, chance, his mate's shrill call he hear), And drops at once into her nest. The noblest captain in the British fleet Might envy William's lip those kisses sweet.
Página 63 - They know not I knew thee Who knew thee too well: Long, long shall I rue thee Too deeply to tell. In secret we met: In silence I grieve That thy heart could forget, Thy spirit deceive. If I should meet thee After long years, How should I greet thee ?— With silence and tears.
Página 29 - Then sweet the hour that brings release From danger and from toil; We talk the battle over, And share the battle's spoil. The woodland rings with laugh and shout, As if a hunt were up, And woodland flowers are gathered To crown the soldier's cup.
Página 304 - We thought, as we hollowed his narrow bed, And smoothed down his lonely pillow, That the foe and the stranger would tread o'er his head, And we far away on the billow ! Lightly they'll talk of the spirit that's gone, And o'er his cold ashes upbraid him ; But little hell reck if they let him sleep on In the grave where a Briton has laid him...