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 61.
Strana 7
... 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 incline eaceful slumb'ring on the ocean .. 27 28 30 31 33 ib . 34 ib . ' ll ...
... 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 incline eaceful slumb'ring on the ocean .. 27 28 30 31 33 ib . 34 ib . ' ll ...
Strana 9
... .. .. 66 .. ib . .. 67 ib . 68 69 70 ib . 71 73 74 .. ib . 75 76 77 ib . 78 79 .80 Here a sheer hulk lies poor Tom Bowling 81 Away with melancholy When Arthur first in court began 82 ib . 10 ( . Ye gentlemen of England Deep in a CONTENTS .
... .. .. 66 .. ib . .. 67 ib . 68 69 70 ib . 71 73 74 .. ib . 75 76 77 ib . 78 79 .80 Here a sheer hulk lies poor Tom Bowling 81 Away with melancholy When Arthur first in court began 82 ib . 10 ( . Ye gentlemen of England Deep in a CONTENTS .
Strana 11
... Poor Joe , the miller loved ib . Here's the bottle she lov'd 125 .. The moon had climbed 126 No more I'll court the town bred fair 127 Ah ! tell me ye swains 128 The hour is come that we must part 129 From the white blossom'd sloe ib ...
... Poor Joe , the miller loved ib . Here's the bottle she lov'd 125 .. The moon had climbed 126 No more I'll court the town bred fair 127 Ah ! tell me ye swains 128 The hour is come that we must part 129 From the white blossom'd sloe ib ...
Strana 31
... POOR BROWN BESS . RECITATIVE . As through Hyde Park the vet'ran chanc'd to halt The guards close pass'd him on a grand field day , He stopp'd and sigh'd - ' twas age and not his fault That kept him prisoner he was heard to say . Else ...
... POOR BROWN BESS . RECITATIVE . As through Hyde Park the vet'ran chanc'd to halt The guards close pass'd him on a grand field day , He stopp'd and sigh'd - ' twas age and not his fault That kept him prisoner he was heard to say . Else ...
Strana 32
... poor Brown Bess . Her skin , though not so soft and fair , As some soft dames , I must confess , Yet as much good time and care Has been employed on poor Brown Bess . Faithful still to ev'ry duty For parade whene'er I dress ; Neat and ...
... poor Brown Bess . Her skin , though not so soft and fair , As some soft dames , I must confess , Yet as much good time and care Has been employed on poor Brown Bess . Faithful still to ev'ry duty For parade whene'er I dress ; Neat and ...
Obsah
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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...