The Royal Minstrel: Or, Melodist's Pocket Songster; a Choice Collection of Standard and Popular SongsJ.S. Pratt, 1844 - 320 страници |
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Страница 7
... Tear .. 25 ib . 26 ib . Death of Abercrombie ly not yet ong of Marion's men Poor Brown Bess .. send Lewie Gordon hame The kiss , dear maid , thy lips have left .. The sea was rough , the clouds were dark Can wealth or friends thy heart ...
... Tear .. 25 ib . 26 ib . Death of Abercrombie ly not yet ong of Marion's men Poor Brown Bess .. send Lewie Gordon hame The kiss , dear maid , thy lips have left .. The sea was rough , the clouds were dark Can wealth or friends thy heart ...
Страница 8
... tear Hark echo , sweet echo , repeat the loud strain .. When we dwell on the lips of the lass that we love My thoughts delight to wander Tell me where is fancy bred .. Love wakes and weeps · Our country is our ship d'ye see Can the king ...
... tear Hark echo , sweet echo , repeat the loud strain .. When we dwell on the lips of the lass that we love My thoughts delight to wander Tell me where is fancy bred .. Love wakes and weeps · Our country is our ship d'ye see Can the king ...
Страница 13
... tear 165 A British soldier is my dad ib . 166 .. ib . 167 .. 168 169 ib . .. 171 ib . 172 173 ib . 174 175 Ah ! little blind boy , much too often In the smiling morn of spring All in the Downs the fleet Together let us range the field ...
... tear 165 A British soldier is my dad ib . 166 .. ib . 167 .. 168 169 ib . .. 171 ib . 172 173 ib . 174 175 Ah ! little blind boy , much too often In the smiling morn of spring All in the Downs the fleet Together let us range the field ...
Страница 20
... . I Love her , how I love her , Though mine , alas ! she ne'er can be : The sun that shines above her , Is far less bright to me . The time by tears I measure , I prize my 20 THE ROYAL 20 ueen of my soul love her, how I love her.
... . I Love her , how I love her , Though mine , alas ! she ne'er can be : The sun that shines above her , Is far less bright to me . The time by tears I measure , I prize my 20 THE ROYAL 20 ueen of my soul love her, how I love her.
Страница 21
... tears I measure , I prize my fatal treasure , And feel a fatal pleasure , In suffering , dear love , for thee . Deep in my bosom concealing the fierce flame That consumes me , ne'er to thee shall my lips reveal , All the woes I feel ...
... tears I measure , I prize my fatal treasure , And feel a fatal pleasure , In suffering , dear love , for thee . Deep in my bosom concealing the fierce flame That consumes me , ne'er to thee shall my lips reveal , All the woes I feel ...
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Често срещани думи и фрази
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
Популярни откъси
Страница 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.
Страница 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.
Страница 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.
Страница 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.
Страница 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!
Страница 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.
Страница 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.
Страница 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.
Страница 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.
Страница 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...