The Royal Minstrel: Or, Melodist's Pocket Songster; a Choice Collection of Standard and Popular SongsJ.S. Pratt, 1844 - 320 strán (strany) |
Vyhľadávanie v obsahu knihy
Výsledky 1 - 5 z 51.
Strana 7
... Maid of Lorn be Soldier's 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 ...
... Maid of Lorn be Soldier's 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 ...
Strana 9
... maid from the bower has Lo ! when the showers descending Tell me , my heart , why morning's prime Our sheep shearing over , surround the gay board .. Our ship in port , and anchor cast Fly swift , ye zephyrs Then farewell , my trim ...
... maid from the bower has Lo ! when the showers descending Tell me , my heart , why morning's prime Our sheep shearing over , surround the gay board .. Our ship in port , and anchor cast Fly swift , ye zephyrs Then farewell , my trim ...
Strana 10
... maid ! my faithful heart The decks were cleared , the gallant band Near where old Thames in ample tide Still the ... maids ib . 107 .. 108 PAGE The sapling oak lost in a dell Down in CONTENTS .
... maid ! my faithful heart The decks were cleared , the gallant band Near where old Thames in ample tide Still the ... maids ib . 107 .. 108 PAGE The sapling oak lost in a dell Down in CONTENTS .
Strana 15
... maid 229 ib . ib . Stand to your guns 230 When to lovely Woman's power 231 Oh , what a town , what a wonderful ib . Dear Erin , how sweetly 232 Here's to the maiden of bashful fifteen 233 When the drums beat to arms 234 Give me my good ...
... maid 229 ib . ib . Stand to your guns 230 When to lovely Woman's power 231 Oh , what a town , what a wonderful ib . Dear Erin , how sweetly 232 Here's to the maiden of bashful fifteen 233 When the drums beat to arms 234 Give me my good ...
Strana 16
... maid , in every feature I was born once at home And ye shall walk in silk attire Smile again my bonnie lassie O Willie brew'd a peck He comes from the wars To a life free from gout I have oftentimes thought it Zeno , Plato , Aristotle ...
... maid , in every feature I was born once at home And ye shall walk in silk attire Smile again my bonnie lassie O Willie brew'd a peck He comes from the wars To a life free from gout I have oftentimes thought it Zeno , Plato , Aristotle ...
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Iné vydania - Zobraziť všetky
The Royal Minstrel: Or, Melodist's Pocket Songster: a Choice Collection of ... Úplné zobrazenie - 1848 |
Časté výrazy a frázy
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
Populárne pasáže
Strana 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.
Strana 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.
Strana 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.
Strana 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.
Strana 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!
Strana 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.
Strana 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.
Strana 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.
Strana 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.
Strana 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...