Over 50 Songs. Copyrighted 1878, by BEADLE & ADAMS. Price, 5 Cents. CONTENTS. | | Caper Oni, 6... awn 2| You Make Me Laugh......... 2 When the Pigs Beginto Fly. 2| My Vife is so Awfully Thin. 3] Babylon is Fallen............. 3 | The Fields of Home ......... 3 PPG GL. ss cos oss eres aE Beautiful Rose. .....-...:.... 8 A Cushla Gal Mochree........ 4 Robinson Crusoe.............. 4 One by One They Crossed the Mt is oak ek, ose The March of the Cameron MPGR ecco c esc. John Chinaman............... CMUEL SOG aks iso Seas Tica. The Style in Which it’s Done Constantinople... The Five Cent Shave........ Jimmy’s Wooing.............. Gentle Jennie Gray.......:... I’m Looking at You Now.... I Know When I’ve Enough. George Constantine McKeown The Merry Widow... The Donegan Light Guard... MNO ss scsi» idiaatanisig apls 2 Norah, the Pride of Kildare. Sweet Visions of Childhood.. ERO ARPONTD Ooi 5+ ge cps n a Shall We Ever Meet Again? You get More Like Your Dad MOET: GIG bons sacs ttle cess ee 8 Please Take Notice ! There are fifty or more songs in each issue of the Hatr-Dime Siverer’s Lisrary. No songs are duplicated or repeated, as is the case in the ‘Ten Cent Song Books,’ which give, on an average, but siz- teen fresh songs in an issue—the rest of the book being made up of stereotypes or repeaters from the other issues. Hence the case stands:— Half-Dime Singer’s Library, Fifty Songs for...... 5 cents, Various Ten Cent Song Books, Sixteen Songs for....10 cents, te The Songs of the Best} = Writers will be given in each is- sue of the Sincrr’s Liprary, viz.: | Danks, Foster, Russell, Hays, Skel- | ly, Newcomb, Work, Frank’ How- ard, Nash. aul, Turner, Harri- gan, John Reed, Rexford, Straight, Dexter Smith, Cooper, Dempster, Hood, Tom Moore, Dibdin, Corn- wall, Morris, Byron, Burns, Sep Winner, Rollin Howard, Larry Tooley , ete. Old, Popular and Standard Sold by ail newsdealers FIFTY OR MORE § ONGS IN EACH ISSUE! . For the Parlor, the Home, the Street and the Club. The very Choicest of Everything | cach issue, or is sent, post-paid, by Going in the World of Song. 4 | Incomparably the cpeenetty Most Convenient, and Delightful Collection of New and | gix cents per number; or is sup- I Songs ever presented the American public! Each and Every Number Only One-Half Dime. st-paid, to any address, on receipt 98 William St., N. Y. 8, five cents each; or, sent of six cents per copy. BEADLE & ADAMS, Publi CONTENTS. PAGE, The Cracksman’s Chant...... 8 DEES. Bb, eHOD 1140%= 65.62.5000 9 Dandy Barber Joe............. 9 Captain Spike of the Muske- LOGES' Fo. cpnlTd Hi valeh$ s cose Limburger Sheese.... | Uncle Tom’s Lament dx Up and Be Doing...... 5 | The Heathen Chinee.......... 10 Within a Mile of Edinboro’.. 10 | Rockaby, Lullaby............. 11 alle Cote Isaiee si... scsi acees 11 | The Soldier’s Tear............ li | I’m Lonely Since My Mother DU sas sasaur vores ae Pull Down the Blind..:. .... 12 What Were all the World Without Thee?....... ... - 12 The King’s Highway....... - 12 | Captain Jinks............ iio ae The 0’s and the Me’s......... 13 | A Motto for Every Man... .. 13 | Her Bright Smile Haunts Me Biddteee ste cat et ce | RT Se Ms. opacicet kee oie 14 | Little Waxed Mustache...... 14 | The Steam Arm......... ..... 14 | Single Blessedness a Fib..... 15 Quit Dat Ticklin’ Me......... 15 | The Sparkling Solitaire...... 15 | May the Best Man Win...... 15 | Beside the Sweet Shannon.... 15 | (8 The most “taking” Songs of Gus_ Williams, Tony Pastor, Lydia Thompson, E. H. Harding, Lotta, D.S. Wambold, Dave Reed, Billy Emerson, Vivian, Lingard, Frank Wilder, Annie Louise Kel- logg, Adah Richmond, Edward | Harrigan, etc., etc., and all of the best minstrel and variety troupe | specialties, as sung throughout the | United States, will be included in the Haur Dime Sincer’s Liprary. (> Singers, Amateurs and Ar- | tistes having Songs that are popu- lar, which they wish to appear in print, will confer a favor by sub- mitting them to the publishers of the Sincer’s Lisrary, which it is their purpose to make a Perfect Repository of the Best Songs, Old, New, Copyrights, and Originals. ter The Harr Dive Srncer’s Lrprary is the cheapest Song Publi- cation in America. It is sold by all newsdealers at a half-dime for the publishers to any address for | plied to subscribers—ten consecu- | tive numbers for ip cents, post- paid. This brings #- within the reach of every lover of,Song in the land, 2 - & 7 THE SINGER’S LIBRARY. Law A CAPTAIN CUFF. Published by E. H. Harpina, 229 Bowery, N.Y. Music and words, 10 cents. Some coons go in for whiskers, For most unpleasant dogs, Some fellows have a weakness for The most outrageous togs; I’m very strong on linen, Yes, and would not give a dollar For life. without a splendid show Of snow-white cuff and collar! Spoxmn—Which has earned for me the title of— CHORUS. ‘“‘Captain Cuff, Captain Cuff, you can tell me by my collar, Captain Cuff, Captain Cuff, tho’ I’m not worth half a dollar I'm awf'lly stiff in style as my cigarette I puff, They cry, ‘‘ Hi! clear the way, here comes Captain Cuff!” Sometimes a common fellow, Of the “lower order ” class, Will dare to make some rude remark, Or mock me as I pass; And lots of vulgar little boys, They know me well enough, And oft salute me in the street, With ‘‘ What cheer, Capting Cuff?” CHORUS, : “‘Capting Cuff, Capting Cuff, you can tell him by his collar, Capting Cuff, Capting Cuff, he ain’t worth half a dollar; He’s “Glenfield” in his style, as:the cigarette he’ll puff, So hi! hey! clear the way, here comes Capting Cuff.” I lounge about at parties, — I’m ‘“‘heavy ” at the Ball; By Jove! “‘ the Captain ” never has To decorate a wall; I dance with every charmer, fit To be my “vis a vis!” And ’tis awfully delightful, How the ladies follow me— 4% SpoxEN—With their eyes all over the room, when I often hear, a charming creature observe to her ma—‘“‘ Oh ma, dear, who is that handsome, dignified party over there?’ The by the time I’ve struck an imposing attitude, I hear the ‘‘ old un” say, ‘‘ Why, my dear Maud, don’t you know it’s—(CHoRUs.) With darling eyes upon me, 3 Through life Pll gayly march; My style shall be the stiffest, i My motto shall be “starch.” Should my cuff and collar glory | Be ever gone and fled, You'll know that Captain Cuff’s gone wrong, Or his washerwoman’s dead. Spoxmn—And what is all the world to a man when his Laundress is defunct, it would mean ruin to—(CHoRUS.) ‘ YOU MAKE ME LAUGH. SUNG WITH IMMENSE SUCCESS BY BILLY BIRCH OF THE SAN FRANCISCO MINSTRELS, Copied by permission of Freprrick Biome, 861 Broadway, New York, owner of the copyright. Music and words, 35 cents, I'm going to wed a nice young lass, In beauty none can her surpass; You may search the country all around, You’ll not find one like Susan Brown. Oh I love Sue, and Sue loves me, We're happier than king or queen can be, But Sue, you must know, has a curious way, For when I go to kiss her she will always, say! Cuorus—Oh! dear me, let me be, get away, do, Oh, don’t tickle me! Now then, Ted, he, he, he, he, Oh, you make me laugh! I never shall the day forget, The first time I and Susan met, She was milking on a three-legg’d stool; I call’d her duck, she called me fool; She then gave me such a slap in the face, But I didn’t mind that for I wanted to taste Her sweet pretty lips, like the roses so red, But when I went to kiss her, how she scream’d and said: (CHoRvs. ) I said I'll have one kiss, and then My arm went round her waist again; She shouted ‘‘ Ob! I feel so queer,” She scratched my face and pulled my ear; But I held fast and declared that I Would either have a kiss or die; She said ‘‘ Well, then, Ted, if you’ll let me be, Just take one, duckie darling, but don’t tickle me, (CHO ) ENCORE VERSE. I’m married now and settled down, With my dear darling, Susie Brown; We are happy as a pair can be, And toss the babies on our knee. But when I chance to come home late at night, She’s bound to catch me, and oh! what a plight, For Susan don’t stop to consider my plea, But with a pair of flat-irons she tickles me. (CHORUS.) When the Pigs Begin to Fly. Published by E. H. Harpine, 229 Bowery, N.Y. Music and words, 10 cents, I’ve got the gift of prophecy, As I will quickly show, The secret of the future ; Most infallibly I know; Pll give you a few straight tips, And I will prophesy Of some strange things to happen, When the pigs begin to fly. » \ CHORUS. When the pigs begin to fly, oh! won’t the pork be high, Tho’ they are the most unlikely birds that ever flew in the sky, » I see no reason why they never should have a try, Much queerer things will come to pass when the pigs begin to fly. Some folks they want :remation, And are very much perplexed Because they say they’d rather burn 4 In this world than the next. They’re bound to make a ’ash of it, If they cremation try, They'll settle this burning question! When the pigs begin to fly. Fa Cuorus—When the pigs begin to fly, etc., etc. We'll all adopt cremation when the pigs begin to fly. We hear a lot of women’s wrongs And also women’s rights, They want to wear the breeches, Do the old and ugly frights. The rights they need are marriage rites, For Home Rule they should try, We'll send old maids to Parliament When the pigs begin to fly. CHorus—When the pigs begin to fly, etc., etc., Old spinsters will be ministers when the pigs begin to fly. The force of folly and of fashion Could no further go, You must confess that ladies’ dress At present is a show. With ruffs puffs, cuffs, and muffs, and stuffs, Dame Nature they defy, I do believe they’ll dress like Eve When the pigs begin to fly. CHorvus— When the pigs begin to fly, etc., etc., They'll only wear their natural hair when the pigs begin to fly. A day will come when ev'ry belle Will dress with simple taste; She won’t puff out her figure And screw in her dainty waist. High heels, low bodies, dress improvers, Chignons she’ll decry, Drop powder puff, and all such stuff When the pigs begin to fly. Cxorvus—When the pigs begin to fly, etc., etc., Each female saint will never paint when the pigs begin to fly. ange cael y Vi ints Rea THE SINGER’S LIBRARY. eee My Vife is so Awfully Thin. WORDS AND MUSIC BY GUS WILLIAMS. Qopied by permission of FrepErIcK Biume, 861 Broadway, New York, owner of the copyright. Music and words, 35 cents, You’ve heard aboud a gal I lov’d, Dot used to be so stout; How she “‘shook me” und just because, I vould not take her out To balls und parties und all dot, Vich I daught vas a sin; But now I’ve got a new sweetheart, Und she is awful thin. CHorvus—She is so thin, dot vere she here, You could not see her; don’t dot seem queer? Bad luck have I, oh, I shall die; My vife is so awfully thin. Vere I first met dis female straw, ’Dwas at a coundry fair, She vos valking long mit her ma’ma, Und had such nice blonde hair; I spoke to her, she spoke to me, Ve got acquainted den; Ve married vere und after dot, She commenced to grow thin. Spoxen—She is the thinnest of the thin; she used to vork in an insdrument factory, cleaning out flutes; I used to blay ‘‘ Hide and Seek” mit her, und she used to hide in de gas pipe. I took her oud riding vonce, und I grabbed her, instead of de whip; I never took her out after dot; I vos valtzing mit her at a ball vonce, und de floor manager come up, und said, “Young man, you vill have to leave your cane in de hint room, it’s not allowed on de floor ;” I told him ’twaS no cane, but my vife. De oder day vile ve vos oud valking, I saw a man selling leetle red balloons for ten cends; I bought vone, und give it to her to hold—she vent up, balloon und all; I hav’n’t seen her since, but—(CHoRUvs.) BABYLON IS FALLEN. Copied by permission of Roor & Capy, Music Publishers, Chicago, owners of the copyright. Don’t you see de black clouds risin’ ober yonder, ' ‘Whar de massa’s ole plantation am? Neber you be frightened, dem is only darkeys, Come to jine and fight for Uncle Sam. CHorvus—Look out dar, now, we’s a-gwine to shoot! Look out dar—don’t you understand? Babylon is fallen, Babylon is fallen, And we’s a-gwine to occupy de land. Don’t you see de lightnin’ flashin’ in de cane-brake, Like as if we gwine to hab a storm? No, you is mistaken, ’tis de darkeys’ bay’nets, An’ de buttons on dar uniform. (CHORUS.) Way up in de corn-field, whar you hear de t’under, Dat is our ole forty-pounder gun; When de shells are missin’, den we load wid punkins, All de same to make de cowards run. (CHORUS.) Massa was de Kernel in de rebel army, Eber sence he went an’ run away; But his lubly darkeys, dey has been a-watchin’, An’ dey take him pris’ner tudder day. (CHORUS.) We will be de massa, he will be de sarvant, Try him how he like it for a spell; So we crack de butt’nuts, so we take de Kernel, So de cannon carry back de shell. (CHoRUus.) THE FIELDS OF HOME. Copied by permission of Roor & Capy, Music Publishers, Chicago, own- ers of the copyright. The fields of home, the merry fields, Where waved the golden corn; What joy their glowing mem’ry yields, Twas here that I was born. Along their side the river wound, With sweet and rippling flow, And near it was the old play-ground We cherished years ago. Cxorus—The fields of home, the merry fields, Where waved the golden corn, What joy their glowing mem’ry yields, *Twas there that I was born. Se The fields of home, I roved them o’er, With gentle ones now gone, When life had blissful hopes in store, And pleasure round us shone. The rosy days—how fast they fled! Alas! I sadly roam, And many were the tears I shed, To leave the fields of home. (CHORUS.) The fields of home, where oft I heard The farmer’s cheery song, As gay as voice of morning bird, While sped the plow along. My bosom fondly yearns to see Each blooming hill and plain, To lie beneath some balmy tree, And be a child again. (CHORUS.) DANDY PAT. Copied by permission of O. Drrson & Co., Music Publishers, Boston, owners of the copyright. I’m the boy called Dandy Pat, I was born in the town of Ballina, Dandy Pat I O. I coorted one Miss Kitty Maloy, She sed I was the broth of a boy, Dandy Pat I O. CxHorus—I’m Dandy Pat I O, I’m Dandy Pat I O, From Magherafat to Ballinafat There’s none come up to Dandy Pat. My leg and foot is nate and trim, The girls all say just look at him, Dandy Pat 1 O. My stick is made of good black thorn, I'm the funniest fellow that ever was born, Dandy PatIO, (CHorRvs.) My coat is made of Irish frieze, The devil a one can take the prize From Dandy Pat I O. My hat is made of Irish felt, The hearts of all the girls I melt, I'm Pat the dandy O. (CHoRvs.) I took a walk to the Central Park, A charming lady made the remark, Pat the Dandy O. She axed me home to take some tay, She said she’d never go away From Pat the Dandy O. (CHoRUvs.) eee BEAUTIFUL ROSE. ission of Roor & Capy, Music Publi i: Copied by permissio: ER hee blishers, Chicago, owners Off on the prairie, where the balmy air, Kisses the waving corn, There lives a farmer with a daughter fair, Fair as a summer’s morn; She has a nature gentle as a dove, Pure as the mountain snows; Say, is it strange that every one should love, Love such a girl as Rose? Cuorvus—Beautiful Rose! lovely Rose! ‘ Pride of the prairie bower! Everybody loves her, everybody knows She is the fairest flower! ; Rose is a lady, yet from early dawn, Labors her skillful hand; She is the housewife, now her mother’s gone, Gone to the better land; Rose has the beauty, father has the gold, Both will be hers some day; For she is young, while he is old, Old people pass away. (CHORUS.) Clerks from the city, plowmen from the field, Lords from a foreign land, Each in their turn have very humbly kneeled, Kneeled for her heart and hand; But to them all she made the same reply, Kindly but firmly, ‘‘ No!” And none but I can tell the reason why, Why she should treat them so. (CHORUS.) ce a ee Ps THE SINGER’S LIBRARY. a a aaa ea a ee ee WA A CUSHLA GAL MOCHREE. Copied by permission of OLiveR Drrson & Co., Music Publishers, Boston, owners of the copyrigh '. My fanny dear, my Fanny dear, The blackbird on yon bough Trills to his mate his warbling notes, As sweet as lover’s vow; And here my heart pours out its tale Of love and truth to thee, Thou fairest of dear Erin’s maids, My Fanny dear, my Fanny dear, Acushla gal mochree. My Fanny dear, my Fanny dear, Though suitors round thee press, _ And seek to win thee from the arms Which only should caress; ‘Yet, still I know thou constant art, As constancy can be, Thou fairest of dear Erin’s maids, My Fanny dear, my Fanny dear, Acushla gal mochree. My Fanny dear, my Fanny dear, No chilling wind that blows Shall blighc the tender bud of hope That in my bosom grows; The hope that Erin yet shall stand Among earth’s nations free, The hope I cherish for thy sake, My Fanny dear, my Fanny dear, Acushla gal mochree. ROBINSON CRUSOE. Copied by permission of O.tver Dirson & Co., Music Publishers, Boston, owners of the copyright. When I was a lad I had cause to be sad, My grandfather I did lose, oh; Tl bet you a can You have heard of the man, His name it was Robinson Crusoe, Cxorus—Oh, Robinson Crusoe, Oh, poor Robinson Crusoe! Tink a tink tang, tink a tink tang; Oh, poor Robinson Crusoe! Perhaps you’ve read in a book, Of a voyage that he took, And how the raging whirlwind blew, so That the ship with a shock Drove plump on a rock, Near drowning poor Robinson Crusoe. (CHO.) Poor soul! none but he Remained on the sea, Ah! fate, fate, how could you do so? Till ashore he was thrown, - On an island unknown: Oh, poor Robinson Crusoe! (CHoRUS.) He wanted something to eat, And he sought for some meat, But the cattle away from him flew, so That, but for his gun, He’d been surely undone: Oh, my poor Robinson Crusoe. (CHORUS. ) But he saved from aboard An old gun and a sword, And another odd matter or two, so That by dint of his thrift ; He managed to shift: Well done, Robinson Crusoe. (CHORUS.) And he happened to save, From the merciless wave, A poor parrot. I assure you ’tis true, so That when he’d come home, From a wearisome roam, She’d cry out, ‘‘ Poor Robinson Crusoe.” (CHOo.) Natl a eso Se He got all the wood That ever he could, And stuck it together with glue, so That he made him a hut, In whick he might. put The carcass of Robinson Crusoe, (CHORUS. ) He used to wear an old cap, And a coat with long flap, With a beard as long as a Jew, so That, by all that is civil, He looked like a devil, More than like Robinson Crusoe, (CHORUS,) And then his man, Friday, Kept the house neat and tidy, To be sure, ’twas his business to do so; They lived friendly together, Less like servant than neighbor, Lived Friday and Robinson Crusoe. (CHORUs.) “ At last an English sail Came near within hail; Oh! then he took to his little canoe, so That on reaching the ship, The captain gave him a trip Back to the country of Robinson Crusoe. (CHO.) po a a One by One They Crossed the River. Copied by permission of H. M. Hiaars, Music Publisher, Chicago, owner of the copyright. One by one they crossed the river, Members of our household band, Awd we saw the frail bark waiting, Moored upon’ the golden sand. First our Willie—blue-eyed baby— All at once forgot to play, And an angel came and bore him O’er the river, far away. One by one the bark they entered, Loved ones from our own fireside; And I watched them, o’er the river, In the light boat swiftly glide. Willie first, then Maggie darling, With her curls of golden hair Unimprisoned on her bosom, Floating o’er her shoulders bare. One by one the bark they entered, And I saw it borne away, O’er the waves upon the river, _ Lost amid the dashing spray. Next my stately dark-eyed brother, As his breath came soft and low, Smiled, and said, ‘‘The boat is waiting, All unmoored, and I must go.” One by one—and still the boatman Moored his shallop to the shore, And we held our breath, expecting Soon to hear him at the door. Sister Cora heard him knocking— Paled her cheek to driven snow, And the death-dews bathed her forehead— She, too, whispered, ‘‘I must go.” One by one they crossed the river, Four from out our household band, When, one morn, I saw the shallop, Manned by angels, reach the sand. Here were Willie, Maggie darling, And my dark eyed brother, too, And my sister Cora whispered, “We have come to visit you.” One by one they crossed the river, In the shallop light and frail, But they all returned together In a bark with snowy sail. Cora spoke of lovely flowers, Brother of the farther shore, Willie dear and darling Maggie Kissed my forehead o’er and o’er. a see coaa ntl lil cole eatin bs caadinaa aCe ptoms Og OL Re we . ~ eee I eR ET RT PROGR LEE LIE TED OI OE ate THE SINGER’S LIBRARY. 5 ‘ m7 VT | ’ + h 7+? D : i } he March of the Cameron Men. | The Style in Which it’s Done. | ) Pcblished by E. H. Harprne, 229 Bowery, N.Y. Musio and words, 10ceuts. | Copied by permission of O. ae & te zen Publishers, Boston, | | owners of the co 2 } } There’s many a man of the Cameron clan, | " : That has follow’d his chief to the field; I stand before you once again, : } He has sworn to support him, or die by his side, A few words just to ei, For a Cameron never can yield. The subject of my song ay Sea ; I hear the pibroch sounding, sounding, iree one Pray 4 rae Baal ie is | ) Deep o’er the mountain and glen ee eine eeeee a h ? j ) While light springing footsteps are trampling the heath, As through the wor! a5 eet ’Tis the march of the Cameron men, But so very aah 4 Se f Tis the march, ’tis the march, ; The style in which it’s done. | Tis the march of the Cameron men. Fortune’s ever said to give ( i i it chi Her favors to the brave; j The moon has arisen, it shines on that path ) | Now trod by the gallant and true. : But fortune’s fickle hag that we High, high are their hopes, for their chieftain hath said With judgment do CLA } That whatever men dare they can do. It is not by the fastes orse ( | } I hear the pibroch sounding, sounding, etc., etc. ions Gee gaan: deta ani | } Oh, proudly they walk, but each Cameron knows The style in which it’s done. 7 } He may tread on the heather no more; But boldly he follows his chief to the field, A man shall = a ee cae t ; | Where his laurels were gather’d before. And not be “brought to was | I hear the pibroch sounding, sounding, etc., etc. saat amends sommes pire | Ee This may seem contradictory | Indeed to many a one, } JOHN CHINAMAN. But so very much depends upon : The style in which it’s done. Copied py permission of Root & Capy, Music Publishers, Chicago, owners 3 of the copyright. Now has it ne’er occurred to you | John Chinaman, dear sir How strange the anyeter somes, } : Since yow’re making such a stir a young girls a bag oe { ) In the waves that wash along our western strand, 7, eae ssc tent ad es a | Soot — jingling of your gong, * a tais that’s ‘number one. : 4 While we sing our greeting song, But so very mith dapenda fiiioig As you gaze upon our broad and happy land. This atyla dn setich it's doad CHoRUS—Ho! John Chinaman! : Now, Jobn Chinaman! I p sees vont ieee sen BONE), j pr a: Be ate ging rr But I hope that I have pleased you ey, Poors Bs - With my little bit of rhyme; i ? . . . } We’ve room enough to welcome all! ie aie hess ‘ R John Chinaman, Esquire, . But so very much depends upon | Though we really don’t admire The style in which it’s done. f All the oriental notions you may bring, } We have room enough for you, Ii And we’ve work enough to do, And our nation’s song of welcome now wesing. (CHO.) CONSTANTINOPLE. { John Chinaman, they say | Copied by permission of Onrver Drrson & Co., Music Publishers, Boston, You have loitered by the way. owners of the copyrght. While the nations of the world were marching on, Kind friends, your pity pray bestow So we’r © waiting now to ape ' On one who stands before you, What a forward march ”’ there'll be, And listen to my tale of woe, In the future of our distant neighbor, John. (CHO.) Though I promise not to bore you; } ie pgp sie 2 I longed to be a soldier’s bride, : kK In my heart there burnt ambition’s flame, : BITTER BEER For I loved a gay young Colonel, who ( : . From Constantinople came. At ) Published by E. H. Harding, 229 Bowery, N.Y. Music and words, 10|cents. Constantinople, Constantinople, b } ' a sibject of my little song is one I hold mosé dear, Constantinople the Colonel came. f ) * supports our constitutions and it will for many a year, C ‘ as i ; p | John Bull indeed would be defunct or else look very queer, CHoru ren ee LL pot vee Ri |. Bass and Co, should cease to brew their glorious Bitter Beer. W Gain seit ae swith Coe itentiddO, ’ - , CHORUS. P-l-e, with a pull, Con-stan-ti-no-ple. Aheonp, Bass and Co., they each deserve a monument, te o se ei cath while we're oe . ; I met the Colonel at a ball, ih "ore euee s for Bass and Allsopp too,and their glorious Bitter Beer To him I was presented, Ak ae : Upon his knees the youth did fall, ioe ' + tneted Hock and Claret tov, Madeira and Moselle, ‘And lots of stuff invented;} tk '' 4 not one of those boshy wines revives this languid swell, He said he was a Turkish Prince, ye ©* all complaints from A to Z the fact is very clear, And begged that I would bear his name, be ) ‘.here’s no disease but what’s been cur’d by Bass’s Bitter Beer, So I accepted the young Colonel, who i : ) (CHORUS.) From Constantinople came. (CHorUus.) : ) ‘ve liv’d in Scotland many years and drank its mountain Dew; ‘ ‘ 1 \ : don’t deny but what it’s good and a stimulant ’tis true, : ooo a whit mene eon a { I’m far from being prejudic’d, as some may think, I fear, Thapaltec oni; wiGtous tw i ‘Yet give to me acooling draught of Bass’s Bitter Beer. (CHo.) They Seka the Col ‘nals e ’ Ol Ireland’s drink I have imbibed, yes, Kinahan’s double L; I soon found he a swindler was, ; ni Kitty Trainer’s famed Potheen and Dunville’s too as well, And long had carried ou that game, ‘ 3 } A. gloss of punch, of course I know, will oft your spirits cheer, And so I lost my Colonel, who i) } But still my fav’rite beverage is Bass’s Bitter Beer. (CHORUS.) From Constantinople came. (CHORUS.) ea ee asa aa aie elas i Sad Saplyp- LIN THE SINGER’S LIBRARY. WRI THE FIVE-CENT SHAVE. Copied by permission of E. H. Harprne, 229 Bowery, New York, owner of the copyright. Music and words, 10 cents. Oh! I’m going to tell you, of the troubles I went thro’ In a barber’s shop that isn’t very far away, My beard it being strong, I thought ’twould not be wrong, To go and have it trimm’d a bit, the other day; And being short of cash, it struck me like a flash, That five cents was enough to pay in these hard times, So I went into a place, as I thought it no disgrace To practice strict economy and save my dimes. Spoxen—Yes, I went into one of these barber’s shops where they ive you a shave for five-cents and throw in a chromo. Well, the follow put me into a chair and took down a small bottle from the shelf and was going to put it to my nose. ‘‘ What’s that?’ says I. ‘ Chloroform,” says he. ‘I didn’t come here to have my teeth pulled out,” says I. “Oh! well,” says he, ‘if you can stand it Ican.” ‘“ Go ahead,” says I. CHORUS. So he lather’d me, he slather’d me, he bruised me, he abused me, He tore me and nearly drove me to my grave; He tickled me, he pickled me, he scratch’d me, and he patch’d me, And I’d rather have the measles than his five-cent shave. I stood it for awhile, I tried in vain to smile, He talked about the weather as he scratched away; He took me by the hair and held me in the chair, I thought my days were numbered and began to pray; At length I gave a roar, says I, ‘‘I want no more; Here! you can have my pocketbook but spare my life; Take all that I possess, and finish my distress, I cannot stand the torture of your slaughter-house knife.” SPpoKEN—You ought to see the way he went about it. The first thing I knew he his knee upon my chest and was sawing away like a day’s work. And then he called out to the fellow that cleans thespittoons: ‘Here Emanuel, come and put some grease on the razor, I’m stuck.” Well! between the two they finally got it out, and I looked into the glass, and by the hokey my face was all marked out in town lots. ‘‘ What’s this you have on my face?” I says. ‘‘Oh, well,” he says, ‘‘we expect our customers to come back, and that’s a diagram of the route,” “ Well,” says I, ‘you may call this a clean shave, but I call it a clean skin and a_bare- faced one at that,” and I'll never go there again, because—(CHO.) JIMMY’S WOOING. Copied by permission of Root & Capy, Music Publishers, Chicago, owners of the copyright. The wind came blowing out of the west, As Jimmy mowed the hay; The wind came blowing out of the west, It stirred the leaflets from their rest, And rocked the blue-bird up in his nest, As Jimmy mowed the hay. The swallows skimmed along the ground, And Jimmy mowed the hay; The swallows skimmed along the ground, And rustling leaves made pleasant sound, Like children laughing all around, As Jimmy mowed the hay. Sweet Milly came with basket by, And Jimmy mowed the hay; Sweet Milly came with basket by, With little feet so trim and sly, And sunburnt cheek and laughing eye, As Jimmy mowed the hay. Oh, neat was she in linsey gown, And Jimmy mowed the hay; Oh, neat was she in linsey gown, He watched her soft cheek’s changing brown, And lashes dark that trembled down, Whene’er he looked that way. Oh, Milly’s heart was good as gold, And Jimmy mowed the hay; Oh, Milly’s heart: was good as gold, But Jimmy thought her sly and cold, And more he thought than e’er he told, As still he mowed the hay. The rain came pattering down amain, As Jimmy mowed the hay; The rain came pattering down amain, And ‘neath the thatch of the laden train They sat, a blushing, happy twain, All sheltered by the hay. The merry raindrops hurried in Beneath the thatch of hay; The merry raindrops hurried in And laughed and pattered in a din, O’er all the joy they saw within, Beneath the thatch of hay. For Milly nestled on his breast, Beneath the thatch of hay; For Milly nestled on his breast, Her happy heart had found its rest, And Jimmy knew she loved him best, While resting ’neath the hay. And when the sun came laughing out Upon the thatch of hay; And when the sun came laughing out, Were quickly scattered mist and doubt, And gayly sung the birds about: “There'll be a wedding-day.” GENTLE JENNIE GRAY. My heart is sad, I'll tell you why, If you'll listen to my lay, Which makes me weep, when I sing Of my gentle Jennie Gray; But I never can forget the days, When with Jennie by my side, We talk’d of love and happiness, When she should be my bride. CHorvus—Hush the banjo, toll the bell, I’m very sad to-day, I cannot work, so let me weep, For my gentle Jennie Gray. My Jennio had the sweetest face, ‘ And eyes of sparkling jet, With lips like new-born roses, She was my darling pet; But Death he called one morning, And took my love away, And left me lonely weeping, For my gentle Jennie Gray. (CHORUS.) And in the ground they laid her, Close by my cabin door; A rude stone marks the spot, Where she sleeps to wake no more; While at her grave I’m weeping, At every close of day, I fancy then, she’s sleeping, And not dead! my Jennie Gray. (CHoRUs.) I’M LOOKING AT YOU NOW. Published by E. H. Harpina, ican New York. Music and words cents, I know a fellow that’s so clever, fancies he’s a swell, With large mustache, and such a dash, he quizzes ev'ry girl. He winks, and thinks they are in love, and all the live-long day, At ev’ry pretty silly dove this lunatic will say: CHORUS. I’m looking at you now, I’m looking at you now, You are a perfect Venus, it is true I vow; Yow’re not the stolen picture, for the Duchess I have seen, But strike me independent, miss, I took you for a queen. He teases, squeezes, then he jokes, until his money’s spent; From his landlady then he slopes, for he can’t raise his rent, But still with eye-glass in his eye he ogles ev’ry dear, The girls, they seem to relish this remark they alwayshear. (CHO.) I never saw such confidence as this fellow can show, He courts two ladies, both ~t once, he is a perfect beau. That old remark still pulls him through, for ladies nowaday They like so much palaver, they hear this maniac say— (CHO.) = I Know When I’ve Enough! Copied by permission cf EB. H, Harprne, 229 Bowery, New York, owner of the copyright. Now don’t go giving me advice, I know what I’m about; I am not going to make a speech, to drive the people out, I'm simply going to sing a song, to show that I am straight; My friends here tell me I am drunk, and say, “ it’s growing late.” Wel, they may go, but I’m content to stay just where I am; When I get drunk I always go as mildly as a lamb. But first, allow me to declare that what they say is stuff; I never get off my lea-base, I know when I’ve enough. RIN — My wife tried to convince me, once, that I was beastly tight; Of course I had been smiling, boys, as I have been to-night; I tried to reason with her, but she said, ‘‘I was a brute!” I saw a storm was brewing so, says I, ‘Old boy, keep mute!” My wife has got a lightning tongue! Some of you smile, I see; Perhaps that some of you, to-night, are in the boat with me. Her arguments are striking ones, and I’m not over tough— Said I, “ My dear, I'll go to bed, I kn6w when I’ve enough!” A big Policeman, t’other night, was going to take me in; Says I, ‘‘ What for?” Says he, ‘‘ Because, ycu ‘bum’, you’re full of gin!” I stood up on my dignity and tried to give him bluff, He clubbed me till I cried, in pain, “I know when i’ve enough!” I now submit my case to you and hope you will agree I never gét chock-full, although I like a little spree? Don’t ask me now to take a drink; although it’s rather rough To decline a friendly smile, but then, ‘“‘I know when I’ve enough!” George Constantine McKeown. Copied by permission of E. H. Harprne, 229 Bowery, New York, owner of the copyright. \ A dandy and a ladies’ man has come before you now, A man of taste and culture, for ’tis written on my brow; In Irish circles ’m the Pet of all the ladies fair, And I always meet with favor and a hearty welcome there. The reason must be obvious, I don’t make use of slang; I use well chosen language, which surprises all the gang. You'll often hear the ladies say, ‘‘ Now hasn’t he the tone?” He ought to be a counselor, George Constantine McKeown, J'm in the book and picture trade, I canvass every day; And tho’ the times are very hard, I always make it pay. The literature of Ireland I have at my command, And when ’m talking up a trade my style is great and grand: I tell them how brave Sarsfield fought and kept the foe at bay, And how the women held the fort at Limerick town that day; I get them all excited, for I am no dunce or drone; You'll hear them cry, “‘I’ll take four books, George Constantine McKeown.” ‘You ought to hear me make a speech, about election time; I overflow with eloquence, with anecdote, with rhyme; My attitudes are picturesque, and I can plainly show ‘That I’m the Irish Orator, the Celtic ‘‘ Cicero.” Some try to imitate me, but their slow attempts are vile; They cannot catch my lofty tone, my grand imperious style. Let spurious imitators fall, for equals I have none; I am the great original, George Constantine McKeown. +2-——__—_— THE MERRY WIDOW. There was a merry widow, and she was very fat, She had a heavy purse, and she wa’n’t the worse for that; She was blind of an eye, and she squinted with the other; She had a wooden leg which hobbled with its brother, Going hopperty, kickerty, bow, wow, wow, Oh, beware of love! beware of love! She cocked her squinting eye at me, I thought her naught averse, € I cast at her, too, one sheep’s eye, another at her purse; Then I asked for her hand, truly thinking I had won her; © But she gave me her wooden foot plump in the seat of honor. Going hopperty, etc. I persevered and won her, and bore my prize away; But oh! she died of drinking upon the wedding day; I came in for her thumping purse, just like a hive of honey, But I had all her debts to pay, and that boned all the money. Going hopperty, ete. ee pn, Go a a, n,n, THE SINGER’S LIBRARY. The Donegan Light Guard. Copied by permission of E. H. Harp1nG, 229 Bowery, New York, owner of the copyright. Ah, ha! we’re off so gayly, Now let others take the rear, We're coming solid to the front, Of that don’t have a fear; The Mulligans, the Hoolahans, The Doughertys and all, When we're paradin’ thro’ the streets, We drive them to the wall. CxHorvus—First the left and then the right, But never both together; The tall, the short, the thick, the thin, We'rt worse begob than leather; As we’re paradin’ thro’ the streets, I tell you we’re the cards, We're bound to be the Hummers, We're the Donegan Light Guard! So now we are the darlings, On that you may bet high, We have a prize for every man, And forty more besides. We don’t mix with the common ones, For ourselves we have regard, We are ‘“ A One” above the crowd, We're the Donegan Light Guard! (CHoruvs.) Then you should come and see us As we march down Broadway; They are a gallant lot of men, I'm sure we'll hear you say. The “Seventh” come and gaze at us, And then they beat retreat, It’s no use, boys, they give it up, They know we can’t be beat. (CHORUS. ) THE PILOT. “Oh, pilot, ’tis a fearful night, There’s danger on the deep; T’ll come and pace the deck with thee, = I do not dare to sleep.” “Go down!” the sailor cried, ‘‘ go down! This is no place for thee; Fear not, but trust in Providence, Wherever thou mayst be.” “Ah, pilot, dangers often met, We all are apt to slight; And thou hast known these raging waves But to subdue their might.” “Tt is not apathy,” he cried, “That gives this strength to me; Fear not, but trust in Providence, Wherever thou mayst be. “On such a night the sea engulf’d My father’s lifeless form; My only brother’s boat went down In just so wild a storm. And such, perhaps, may be my fate, But still I say to thee, Fear not, but trust in Providence, Wherever thou mayst be.” Norah, the Pride of Kildare. As beauteous as Flora is charming young Norah, The joy of my heart and the Pride of Kildare, I ne’er will deceive her, for sadly ’twould grieve her, To find that I sigh’d for another less fair, CHORUS. Her heart with truth teeming, her eye with smiles beaming, What mortal could injure a blossom so fair? Oh, Norah, dear Norah, the Pride of Kildare. Where’er I may be, love, I’ll ne’er forget thee, love, Though beauties may smile and try to ensnare, : Yet nothing shall ever, my heart from thine sever, Dear Norah, sweet Norah, the Pride of Kildare. pcs ——~S THE SINGER’S LIBRARY. Sweet Visions of Childhood. Copied by permission of Freprrick Buiume, 861 Broadway, New York, owner of the copyright. Music and words 35 cents. Sweet visions of childhood! how bright they appear ‘When our lives are o’erclouded with care; How fondly we dream of them, year after year, And how lovely they are, and how fair! Oh, bless’d are the scenes that I ne’er can forget: Dearest mother so kind and so true; Sweet home that I left with the saddest regret, How my heart fondly turns unto you. Cxorus— Sweet visions of childhood return to me now, And I weep for the days that are past; My fond mother’s kiss, and her hand on my brow, In the days that were too bright to last. Sweet visions of childhood! how dear to each heart, Once again by a fair mother’s knee I linger while fast welling tears fondly start, And the past comes in beauty to me! Oh, time may destroy all the bright joy of life, But this bosom will ever retain Lovely visions of thee, ’mid the world’s busy strife, Bringing bliss to this fond heart again! (CHoRUs.) HOME AGAIN. Home again, home again, From a foreign shore; And, oh, it fills my soul with joy, To meet my friends once more, Here I dropp’d the parting fear, To cross the ocean’s foam, But now I’m once again with those Who kindly greet me home. Home again, etc., etc. Happy hearts, happy hearts, With mine have laugh’d in glee, But, oh, the friends I loved in youth Seem happier to me. And if my guide should be the fate Which bids me longer roam, But death alone can break the tie That binds my heart to home. Home again, etc., etc. Music sweet, music soft, Lingers round the place; And, oh, I feel the childhood charm, That time can not efface. Then give me but my homestead roof, Pil ask no palace dome; For I can live a happy life With those I love at home, Home again, etc., etc. a ee Shall We Ever Meet Again? Copied by permission of Frrru, Son & Co., Music Publishers, New York, owners of the copyright. Shall we ever meet again? Whispers through the land; Like the ocean’s gentle murmur, Rippling o’er the sand; Friends and kindred long since parted, Seem to hope in vain, That the sunshine may, unclouded, Beam on them again. Cuorvus—Hark, the winds are softly breathing, Hope is not in vain, ; Brightly-beaming sunshine tells us We shall meet again. Oh, ye watchers, cease repining, Ye shall meet again; If not here, in regions brighter, Free from mortal pain; Each new bud in fragrance sweeter Leaves its mother earth, But the soul in winging upward Fadeless joys give birth. (CHorus.) You get More like your Dad Every Day. Published by Otrver Drrson & Co., Boston. Music and words 30 cents. They say as the cock crows the young ones will learn, At least it’s been so in my case, For ever since I can remember I know, T always have been a scape-grace. At gammoning people I took a delight, And when I’ve play’d some little game, Whene’er I’ve gone home and acquainted my dad, He’s always been sure to exclaim: CHorus—You get more like your dad ev’ry day, ‘You get more like your dad ev’ry day, When some trick I have play’d he will say, you young blade, ‘You get more like your dad ev’ry day. I was barely fourteen when I started a pipe And also to court I began, I went into taverns and call’d for my beer And fancied myself quite a man. I remember the first time my friends saw me home I had to be carried to bed, Instead of chastising, my dad only smiled, And said as he shook his old head: (CHorRUvs.) In wrenching off knockers and pulling down bells And spreeing I took a delight, ‘ But there’s one thing I used to like better than all, *Twas bothering Bobbies at night. And often I’ve thrown from the top of a wall A stone at a poor peeler’s tile, And when my old dad chanced to hear of the joke, He’d frequently say with a smile: (CHoRUS.) I am now most addicted to flirting and fun, in fact I make love to excess, And have promised to marry so many dear girls At last ’ve got into a mess. There are Susan and Annie and Florence and Kate Who’ve all had a promise from me, And when I told father, he roar’d with delight, And cried with a slap on his knee: (CHORUS.) THE CRACKSMAN’S CHANT. Copied by permission of Wm. A. Ponp & Co., Music Publishers, New York, owners of the copyright. I see’d three p’licemen in the strand, Luddy, fuddy, oh, poor luddy, heigho; I see’d three p’licemen in the strand, And I knowed as they’d got a chase on hand, Luddy, fuddy, oh, poor luddy, heigho. Cuorus—Luddy, fuddy, oh, poor luddy, heigho. And I see’d as they axed each passer-by, Luddy, fuddy, oh, poor luddy, heigho; And I see’d as they axed each passer-by, And I knew as the cove what they wanted was I, Luddy, fuddy, oh, poor luddy, heigho. (CHoRvs.) First they axed a Frenchman they chanced to meet, Luddy, fuddy, oh, poor luddy, heicho; First they axed a Frenchman they chanced to meet, “Tl est la! Vous le trouverez toute de suite,” Luddy, fuddy, ob, poor luddy, heigho. (CHorus.) Then they axed a Dutchman: ‘‘ Ya, mynheer,” Luddy, fuddy, oh, poor luddy, heigho, *‘T see yist sesh man bass by here Vile I sits at mein toor and I trinks mein peer,” Luddy, fuddy, oh, poor luddy, heigho. (CHOoRUS.) Now why did this throw them off the track? Luddy, fuddy, oh, poor luddy, heigho; Now why did this throw them off the track? Cos Frenchman and Dutchman was both coll the crack, Luddy, fuddy, oh, poor luddy, heigho. (CHoRvs.) ——————eoeeerrwrr’'--Owrvw0O—rr—eeeeanoeoaO--v’ —— Ente Ea THE SINGER’S LIBRARY. 9 TAKE IT, BOB. Captain Spike of the Musketeers. Copied by permission of C. H. Drrson & Co., 848 Broadway, New York, Copied by permission of Freprerick Biume, 861 Broadway, New York, owners of the copyright. Music and words, 30 cents. owner of the copyright. Music and words, 40 cents. Tm a jolly old miller, Bob Bell is my name, Oh! I’m a noble soldier brave, And in my own village I’m well known to fame; Just from the war where the banners wave, I’ve a wife and a daughter, a dear little lass, I'll fight as long as I can see, I’m fond of them both and I’m fond of a glass. Or stand behind a barn or tree. a Some say I’m too fond, well perhaps, that may be, ‘You bet Iam a handsome man, 4 I try to be steady and au as you see; And when I went away, _ " But if I attempt to refuse drink a day, It nearly broke the ladies’ hearts, q I fancy the wheel of the mill seems to say: But now they often say, a “Oh my!” they cry, q CHorus—Take it, Bob, take it, Bob, take it, Bob, take it, Bob, “Oh! who is he?” a That’s what I fancy the mill says to me, . ; a Take it, Bob, take it, Bob, take it, Bob, take it, Bob, SPoKEN—Don’t you know him? Oh! yes, he is— 1 ‘ ae Take it, Bob, take it, it’s better than tea. CHorvs—I am Captain Spike the Musketeer, I’ve tried very oft’ a teetot’ler to be, wa pet : ae a dear, But my mill is quite right, brandy’s better than tea; =a soldier 0: atthe t ; And although what I say you may all think absurd; Sonera od est man in all the town. I believe what the mill says, is right, pon my word. ; 5 a I call’d on old Jones, ’bout some business you know, atten ed 4 And he said, Bob, a pipe and a glass, fore ye go; indices Umit ae me nose, Now I didn’t require it, believe what I say, Ot sothieilin wow oak ‘3 a ane But although a mile off, I could hear the mill say: (CHo.) bare & ae othe? Way ask) > Now I dreamt t’other night that Bob Bell was no more, Outside a Br oadway car, That he died at the age of p’rhaps forty or more; My hat I raised and sweetly ask’d, And I heard people round me say, drink’s done its worst, If she was going far } But altho’ I was dead, I was dying of thirst. “Oh my!” she cried, A bottle of brandy close by I could see, “Oh! who is he?” It was meant for the mourners, it wasn’t for me; But as on my bed, still and silent I lay, In the distance, distinctly I heard the mill say: (CuHo.) SpoxEn—Don’t you know me? I am—(CHorus.) When I go out upon parade, Then the joll¥ old wheel laughed, “ that’s all in your eye,” I am the pride of ev'ry maid, If I said 4 on may the mill stream go dry, e si With sword to flourish and command, For the sake ef your daughter, that dear little lass, There’s not my equal in the land; Go smash the green bottle, and throw down the glass; I proudly lead the rank and file, By water you live, and by brandy you die, In peace or raging war, So dust out the hopper, and dash in the rye, I never look to right or left, And while sacking the wheat, and while taking the toll, But bravely walk before, Sing clearly and loud like a jolly old soul: (CHoRUs.) And on my way, I hear them say: | SpoxEn—Look out! stand back! Here comes—(CHoRUs.) ae DANDY BARBER JOE. Copied by permission of Ottver Drrson & Co., 451 Washington street, LIMBURGER SHEESE. Boston, owners of the copyright, Copied by permission of C. H. Drrson & Co., 843 Broadway, New York, owners of the co: ht. Music and ‘ds, 40 cents. I’m Barber Joe, a dandy darkey oe eee te : Soo i lg an pen tin satan gore sn htetig ji, pnia Jp haa ladas pattn git ght, jl tng jot iin total pt etapa gor hapa poh piggy in pit pain gs Saat = Soa. ais ed ai Just from Tennessee, Of I vas hunery I vood said: I’m a sort of loose and careless nig, Sheese, sheese! gife me some Limburger, As you will easy see. T.imburger sheese und nice dudch bread, Ishave the gemmen, brush ’em up, Sheese, sheese, Limburger sheese. And make ’em look so fine, Dot’s vat I gif to my gal ven [ caughd her, 5x The most artistic darkey Limburger sheese efry nighd I did boughd ker, 3 That e’er came from Caroline. Such a nice gal und a shoemaker’s daughder ee Und said she did lofe me so much like dot Limburger. Crorvus—I wake ‘em up, I shake ’em up so gay, I brush ’em up, working all the day, CHorus—Shweeder as anyding you kin found, And when at night there is a ball, Sheese, sheese, Limburger sheese, With the colored gals I prance, Dot shmells oud loud for miles around, And all the darkeys do look pale Sheese, sheese, Limburger sheese. When I begin to dance. Limburger sheese dot makes you shdrong, With Julia Crow I fell in love, Sheese, sheese, such a nice Limburger, She used to pass my shop, : I ead dot sure der hole day long, Oh! how I wished to speak to her, Sheese, sheese, Limburger sheese. The question for to pop. Limburger sheese und nice dudch bread togedder, At last I asked her for her hand, Dot makes you so healdy und duff like old ledder, ; Which she gave that very day; Dot shmells goot und shdrong ven dot comes sume varm But long before, her roguish eyes vedder, Had stolen my heart away. (CHORUS.) Dere’s noding so nicer as dot goot olt Limburger. (Cuo.) But, now Miss Julia’s mine for life, Dere’s noding so fine like dot to ead, i And dearly she loves me; Sheese, sheese, such a nice Limburger, a Her star-like eyes are full of love Dot makes your moud shmell awful shweed, a : That softly shine for me. Sheese, sheese, Limburger sheese. I asked her how she chanced to fall Der hole of my famley dem likes von anudder, In love with Barber Joe; I like my farder und I like my mudder, She said that I had charmed her with ‘ I like my sisder und also my brudder, 5 i My light fantastic toe. (CHORUS.) Bud bedder as all did I like dot olt Limburger. (Cxo.) ; Pome Pipl THE SINGER’S LIBRARY. 2 It was August the third; UNCLE TOMS LAMENT. And quite soft was the skies; |} Copied by permission of Freprrick Buume, 861 Broadway, New York, Which it might be inferred owner of the copyright. Music and words, 40 cents. That Ah Sin was likewise; You will miss me, darling Chloe, when I sleep beneath the sod, Yet he played it that day upon William ( Where the summer winds are murmuring o’er the lea; And me in a way I despise. ( a wilt think of me in kindness, as life’s weary road you plod, Which we had a small game, } Yhen my spirit rests from pain and sorrow free; ‘ ‘ E 7 # ; : And Ah Sin took a hand: Tho sands of life are slowly ebbing, darling, with the tide, ( : ; F ’ It was Euchre. The same ) And soon these bones will mingle with the clay; He didonoteumdarstani: In the winter of your sorrow you will think of how I died, . - Ana: I mi Chl fan Tea lata But he smiled as he sat by the table, Se ee eC er SECM eee With the smile that was childlike and bland. ‘ See : ' Yet the cards they were stocked For old Uncle Tom is feeble, and his head is bending low; In a way that I grieve, The Master calls, he can no longer stay— f : And my feelings were shocked For his limbs are getting weary and his eyes are growing dim, At the state of Nye’s sleeve; But you'll miss me, Chloe, when I’m laid away. Which was stuffed full of aces and bowers, , You will tell our little children that their father dwells above; Bae ee How the angels led him up the golden stair. : But the hands that were played ‘You will tell them how I lov’d them, with a fond and sacred love; By that heathen Chines, They must try to meet their poor old father there; And the points that he made, And when the Judge his trumpet sounds from realms of bliss on Were quite frightful to see— high, Till at last he put down a right bower, And the morning of the great day comes at last, Which the same Nye had dealt unto me, I will meet you, darling Chloe, and together you and I Will no longer dread December's wintry blast. (CHORUS.) eee ee rdgie. ae And he rose with a sigh, And said, ‘‘ Can this be? ; We are ruined by Chinese cheap labor,”-— s UP AND BE DOING. And he went for that heathen Chinee. b Published by E. H. Harvie, 229 Bowery, New York. Music and words, In the scene that ensued f a): cenita: I did not take a hand, : It is useless to mope o’er our troubles all day, a Mont 9 it was ana . s And to rail at the lot we inherit, ike the leaves on the stran Bear in mind that success is the crown of hard work, With the cards that Ah Sin had been hiding, : And we all have far more than we merit. In the game “‘he did not understand.” i: Tho’ the past has been dark, and the present is drear, « : re And a storm o’er the future be brewing, : erica omnia Bright sunshine will smile ere a very long while, Which wasré atid g it aa ong. If you'll only be up and be doing. Yet I state but the facts; = Cuorus—Then get up with the lark and to work like a man, And we found on his nails, which were taper, - The dictates of conscience pursuing, What is frequent in tapers—that’s wax, < And to o’ercome the strife in the battle of life +s os 3} Never yield, but be up and be doing. : Daa ns Encaaie ae tne Never think it beneath you to dirty your hands, That for ways that are dark, : Should duty require you to do SO; And for tricks that are vain, ie Be cheerful and patient, take things as they come, The heathen Chinee is peculiar— fr And fear nothing, like Robinson Crusoe. Which the same I am free to maintain. As you steadily plod o’er life’s dangerous road, The chart of the past keep reviewing; Fo errata Vie Yet while you look back o’er the desolate track, Still keep traveling on and be doing. (CHoRUus.) Within a Mile of Edinboro’. The drop that is constant will wear out the stone, re ; ; ; So if fortune be slow to reward you, Pee wae > es - sega, town, ee hans eae Se thige Sr , Sweet dower bloom’d, and the grass was dow: And your conscience, approving, will guard you. haath 9 ra tia a= n, Make hay while the sun of your youth brightly shines, And each shepherd woo’d his dear; Or else all your life you’ll be rueing Bonny J oer , blythe eve Bay, The time you have spent and the chances you’ve lost; Kiss’d sweet enny making hay; So don’t fret, but be up and be doing. (CHoRvs.) The lassie blush’d, and, frowning, cried, ay Na, na, it winna do; : | i feed I canna, canna, winna, winna, munna buckle to, j Jockey was a wag that ne’er wad wed, i THE HE ATHEN CHINEE. Tho’ lang he had follow’d the lass; 1, WORDS BY BRET HART. Contented she earn’d and ate her brown bread, i 2 And merrily turn’d up the grass. A Copied by permission of O. Drrson & es Music Publishers, Boston, Bonny Jockey, blythe and free, i owners of the copyright. Won her heart right merrily, a Which I wish to remark— Yet still she blush’d, and, frowning, cried, ae , And my language is plain— “Na, na, it winna do; i. ep ara oS ae or a dark, I canna, canna, winna, winna, munna buckle to,” : nd for tric’ The heathen eles le pacetan. But when he vow’d he wad make her his bride, i i Tho’ h id hi fe Which the same I would rise to explain. She at ete. sg jaa Ah Sin was his name; And vow’d she’d forever be true. And I shall not deny Bonny Jockey, blythe and free, In regard to the same Won her heart right merrily. What that name might imply, , At church she nae mair, frowning, cried, 4 But his smile it was pensive and childlike, ‘Na, na, it winna do, ae As I frequent remarked to Bill Nye. I canna, canna, winna, winna, munna buckle to.” ; ao ROCKABY, LULLABY. He ran o’er hill, and dale, and plain, To ease his weary bones he fain Copied by permission of Freprrick Biumn, New York, owner of the Did throw himself down, but all in vain— copyright. Music and words 40 cents, The leg got up, and was off again. SUNG BY MISS CLARA LOUISE KELLOG, Ri too ral loo ral, etc. A He walked of days and nights a score Rockaby, lullaby, bees in the clover! ys g , Selah so drowsily, crying so low— Of Europe he had made the tour; Rockaby, lullaby, dear little rover! He died—but though he was no more, Down into wonderland, The leg walked on the same as before. Down to the underland— Ri too ral loo ral, ete. Go, oh go! In Holland sometimes he comes in sight, Down into wonderland go! A skeleton on a cork-leg tight; No cash did the artist’s skill requite, Rockaby, lullaby, rain on the clover! He never was paid—and it serv’d him right! Tears on the eyelids that waver and weep! Ri too ral loo ral, etc. Nab ding it Pu aot My tale I’ve told both plain and free, Sy 7 ld Of the richest merchant that could be; ee — mapet Who never was buried, though dead, you see, 4 ; aos ‘ etn And I have been singing his L E G. 4 Down on the mother-world, sleep! Tl too Hal 16 i, bo. ; Rockaby, lullaby, rain on the clover! Dew on the eyes that will sparkle at dawn! eodigitiie Aellldiyy tier diitlo cover! THE SOLDIER’S TEAR. & Into the stilly world, . nee = oe See ised heat toma look one! oh, gone ; 7 Into the lily world, gone! Sete ae Eis ok, Beside that cottage porch A girl was on her knees; THE ‘SINGER’S: LIBRARY. 9 NS. AL - She held aloft a snowy scarf, THE CORK LEG. That flutter'd in the breeze. THOMAS HUDSON. She breathed a prayer for him; ‘ he could not hear; Y’ll tell you a tale without any flam, A prayer ; — In Holland dwelt Mynheer Von Clam, But he paused, to bless her as she knelt, : Who every morning said, ‘I am And wiped away a tear. a The richest merchant in Rotterdam.” He turn’d him from the spot. Ri too ral loo ral, ete. Oh! do not deem him weak, One day he had stuff’d him as full as an egg; For, dauntless as the soldier was, When a poor relation came to beg; : Yet a tear was on his cheek. But he kicked him out without broaching a keg, Rush, rush, to battle plains, ‘ And in kicking him out he broke his own leg. In victory’s dark career; ’ Ri too ral loo ral, ete, Be sure the hand that bearest thee € A surgeon—the first in his vocation— Has wiped away a tear. a Came and made a long oration; He wanted a limb for anatomization, So finish’d his jaw by amputation. Ri too ral loo ral, ete. I’m Lonely Since My Mother Died. Said Mynheer, says he, when he’d done his work, Copied by permission of Oxtvyer Drrson & Co., Boston, owners of the “By your sharp knife, I lose one fork, copyright. Music and words 35 cents. But on two crutches I'll never stalk, For I'll have a beautiful leg of cork.” Ri too ral loo ral, ete. I’m lonely since my mother died, Though friends and kindred gather near, I cannot check the rising sigh, An artist in Rotterdam, ’twould seem, Or stay the silent heartfelt tear. ) Had made cork-legs his study and theme; Of earthly friends she was the best, 1 Each joint was as strong as an iron beam, My erring youthful steps to guide; The springs a compound of clockwork and steam. Oh, do not smile because I weep, Ri too ral loo ral, ete. I’m lonely since my mother died. The leg was made and fitted tight, Cxrorus—I’m lonely since my mother died, Inspection the artist did invite; Tho’ friends and kindred gather near, ee The fine shape gave Mynheer delight, I cannot check the rising sigh, ft As he fix’d it on, and screw’d it tight. Or stay the heartfelt silent tear. Ri too ral loo ral, etc. You may not deem it brave or strong, He walk’d through squares, and past each shop, \ To let these tears so often flow, Of speed he went to the utmost top; But those who've lost a mother’s love, Each step he took with a bound and a hop, Can tell the pain of my sad woe. Till he found his leg he could not stop. Could I but call her back again, q Ri too ral loo ral, ete. And kneel once more down by her side, Horror and fright were in his face, Td love her better than before, — The neighbors thought he was running a race! I’m lonely since my mother died. (CHorvs.) He clung to a t to stay his pace, ag But the les donteasiaed bet up the chase. ~ My rs who have a mother dear, aa Ri too ral loo ral, etc. not a word or act give pain, : : But cherish, love her with your life, He call’d to some men with all his might, You ne’er can have her like again. “Oh, stop me, or I’m murdered quite!” Then, when she’s called from you away, 3 But though they heard him aid invite, Across death’s dark and troubled tide, as He in less than a minute was out cf sight. In pain with me you need not say, ; Ri too ral loo ral, ete, . I’m lonely since my mother died. (CHoRvs.) ae i — lll TT — em a na ae a a RN ee eG ERR Re Re pm em ee em ~ es acs oak ——————SS = 12 an an ama Published by Outver Drrson & Co., Boston. Music and words, 30 cents. What Were all the World Without Copied by permission of Wa. A. Ponp, Music Publisher, New York, owner SpoxkEN—And should an angry smile on her face she’ll exclaim—(CHORUS.) THE SINGER'S LIBRARY. PULL DOWN THE BLIND. Did you ever make love? if not, have a try; I courted a girl once, so bashful and shy— A fair little creature, who, by the by, At coaxing and wheedling had such a nice way, Every night to her house I went; In harniless delight our evenings were spent; She had a queer saying, whatever it meant, For whenever I enter’d her house she would say: Crorvus—Pull down the blind, pull down the blind, Pull down the blind, love, come, don’t be unkind; Tho’ we’re alone, bear this in mind, Somebody’s looking, love, pull down the blind. How loving we were! how cosy we’d chat *Bout one thing and t’other, and of this thing and that; With my arm round her waist, how cosy we sat, Like two little turtle-doves perch’d on a tree; Such squeezing and teasing, and pleasing we had, Such wooing and cooing to make our hearts glad; With laughing and chaffing I near drove her mad, But still she was awfully spooney on me. Spoxen—And if that soldier would only have left us alone, she would never have exclaimed—(CHORUS.) One night, for a change, we went to the Play, And when we got home she was awfully gay; She saw them make love, and so learn’d the way. The piece was ‘‘ Claude Melnotte,” and suited her fine; She call’d me her rose-bud, her duck, and her dear, She threw her arms round me, while fast fell each tear; She cried, ‘‘ Oh, don’t leave me, for sadly I fear You don’t love me truly; say, will you be mine?” Spoxen—Just at that moment a policeman passed, and she said —(CHORUS.) Our courting days o’er, at last we were wed, I oft bless the hour when to church her I led— I now call her Mary, and she calls me Ned; We're happy and loving, and never know strife; We’ve a fine, handsome lass, and two noble boys, Trouble or sorrow ne’er us annoys; Of life we’ve the sweets, and while tasting its joys, I’m thankful I’m bless’d with a good little wife. Thee? of the copyright. Music and words, 30 cents. What were all the world without thee— What were life to me, my dear, If I knew that you could doubt me, Or my pleadings fail to hear? Years gone by were bright with pleasure, Let us make the future so, For, my darling little treasure, I will never let you go. CHorus—Years gone by were bright with pleasure, Let us make the future so, For, my darling little treasure, I will never let you go. What were all the world without thee— What would be the need to stay, If I could not see about me Thy sweet image ev’ry day? Though I may have harshly spoken, You'll forgive me now, I know, For our vows should not be broken, And I cannot let you go. (CHoRUS.) What were all the world without thee— What were life with you away? All would seem so dark about me, And I would not care to stay; Tf at times I’ve seemed ungrateful, Do not always think me so, And although you've call’d me “ hateful,”g I can never let you go. (CHORUS.) ; word rise to my lips, with a meek THE KING’S HIGHWAY. Published by E. H. Harprne, 229 Bowery, New York. Music and words, 10 cents. Who rides yonder, proud and gay Spurning the dust on the King’s Highway? Lord of thousand acres wide, While I, the beggar, must stand aside! Go thy way! let me go mine; I to beg, and-thou to dine: Scatter the dust on the King’s Highway, But room for the beggar, room, I say. Fair and free, night and day, Fair and free is the King’s Highway; Fair and free, night and day, ‘ Fair and free is the King’s Highway. 1 Hug thyself in wealth of state, Empty purse has a careless gait; Thou must watch thy chests and bags, None would steal the beggar’s rags. Wine for thee, for me a crust, King and beggar they both are dust; And dust to dust will be borne one day, High and low on the King’s Highway. Fair and free, night and day; Fair and free is the King’s Highway, Fair and free, night and day; Fair and free is the King’s Highway. Dainty maid of high degree, What has the beggar to do with thee? Thy life is morn, and love is May; What has the beggar to thee to say? Gentle word hast thou for me, Tears are in my heart for thee; Ah, that thou shouldst fade one day, E’en as I, on the great Highway! Fair and free, night and day; Fair and free is the King’s Highway; Fair and free, night and day, Fair and free is the King’s Highway. 0 CAPTAIN JINKS. AS SUNG BY LINGARD. I am Captain Jinks of the Horse Marines, I often live beyond my means, I sport young ladies in their ’teens, To cut a swell in the army. I teach the ladies how to dance, How to dance, how to dance, I teach the ladies how to dance, For I’m their pet in the army. SpoxEn—Ha! ha! ha! Cxorus—I’m Captain Jinks of the Horse Marines, I give my horse good corn and beans; Of course it’s quite beyond my means, Though a captain in the army. I joined my corps when twenty-one, Of course I thought it capital fun, When the enemy came then off I run, I wasn’t cut out for the army. When I left home mamma she cried, Mamma she cried, mamma she cried, When I left home mamma she cried, “He ain’t cut out for the army.” SPoKEN—No, she thought I was too young; but then, I said, ah! mamma—(CHORUS.) The first day I went out to drill, The bugle-sound made me quite ill, At the balance step my hat it fell, And that wouldn’t do for the army. The officers they all did shout, They all cried out, they all did shout, The officers they all did shout, “Oh, that’s the curse of the army.” Spoxen—Of course my hat did fall off, but, ah! nevertheless— (CHORUS.) : ae tabi Satan THE SINGER’S LIBRARY. 13 ~ ee Se ssi nna enee 4 The O’s and the Mc’s. Copied by permission of E. H. Harpine, 229 Bowery, New York, owner of the copyright. Music and words, 10 cents. ‘When Ireland was founded by the Mc’s and the O’s, I never could learn, for nobody knows; But History says they came over from Spain, To visit ould Granuale, but there did remain. Their Fathers were Heroes of wisdom and fame, For multiplication they practiced that same, St. Patrick came over to heal their complaints And very soon made them an Island of Saints. CHorus—St. Patrick came over to heal their complaints, And very soon made them an Island of Saints. The Harp and the Shamrock was carried before Brave Roderick O’Connor and Rodger O’Moore; While the Bards sung the deeds of the Mc’s and the O’s, And these are the worthies their verses disclose: O’Neal of Tyrone, O’Donnell, O’Moore, O’Brien, O’Kelly, O’Connell, Galore, All houses so Royal, so Loyal and old, One drop of their blood is worth ounces of gold. CHORUS—AII houses so Royal, so Loyal and old, One drop of their blood is worth ounces of gold. McDonnell, McDowall, O’Curran, O'Keefe, Sly Redmond O’Hanlon, the Rapparee Chief, O'Malley, O’Nalley, O’Sullivan rare, O’Faly, O’Daly, O’Byrne of Kildare, O'Doherty, chief of the Isle Inishone, McGuinness, the Prince of the Valleys of Down, The Callorans, Hallorans, ev’ry one knows, The Raffertys, Flahertys, they were all O’s, Cuorus—The Callorans, Hallorans, ev’ry one knows, The Raffertys, Flahertys, they were all O's. The one eyed McCormick and brave Finn McCool, McCarty of Desmond and Tooly O’Tool, O’Neal the grand, and great Brian Borue, Sir Fagen O’Ragan and Con Donohue, 3 O’Hara, O’Mara, O’Connor, O’Kane, O’Carrol, O’Farrel, O’Brennan, O’Drane, With Murtagh McMurragh, the wicked old Turk, Who brutally murther’d the wife of O’Rourke. CHorus—With Murtagh MeMurragh, the wicked old Turk, Who brutally murther’d the wife of O’Rourke. McGra, McGrath, McGill, McArone, McCadden, McFadden, McCarron, McGlone, McGarren, McFarren, McClary, McCoy, McHaley, McClinch, McElrath, McElroy, McMillen, McClellan, McGillen, McFinn, McCulloch, McCunn, McManus, McGynn, McGinley, McKinley, McCaffrey, McKay, McCarroll, McFarrell, McKirky, McRay. ( vorus—McGinley, McKinley, McCaffrey, McKay, McCarroll, McFarrell, McKirky, McRay. O’Dillon, O’Dolan, O’Devlin, O’Doyle, O’Mullen, O’Nolan, O’Boylan, O’Boyle, O’Mooney, O’Rooney, O’Cooney, O'Kane, O’Carey, O’Leary, O’Shea and O’Shane, O’Brien, O’Rourke, O'Reilly, O'Neal, O’Fagin, O’Ragan, O’Hagan, O’Shiell, O’Dennis, O'Dwyer, O’Blaney, O’F lynn, O’Grady, O’ Shaughnessy, Bryan O’Lynn. Cuorus—O’Dennis, O’Dwyer, O’Blaney, O'Flynn, O'Grady, O’Shaughnessy, Bryan O’Lynn, The Daughters of Erin are Aileen Aroon, Norah Ma Cushla and Shelah Mavrone, With Kathleen Mavourneen and Molly Astore, Such beautiful creatures we love and adore; There is Oonah Ma Cushla and Widow Machree, Fair Molly McGuire and Biddy McGee, Dear Norah Creina and Maggie McGrath, But the mother of all is sweet Erin go Bragh. Cxorus-—Dear Norah Creina and Maggie McGrath, But the mother of all is sweet Erin go Bragh. A MOTTO FOR EVERY MAN. Published by E. H. Harding, 229 Bowery, New York. Music and words, 10 cents. Some people you’ve met in your time no doubt, Who never look happy or gay. Pll tell you the way to get jolly and stout, If you'll listen a while to my lay. Tve come here to tell you a bit of my mind, And please with the same if I can. Advice in my song you will certainly find, And a motto for.every man. CHoRrus—So we will sing, and banish melancholy. Trouble may come, we'll do the best we can, To drive care away, for grieving is a folly, Put your shoulder to the wheel isa motto for ev’ry man. We cannot all fight in this ‘‘ Battle of Life,” The weak must go to the wall; So do to each other the thing that is right, For there’s room in this world for us all, “Credit refuse ” if you’ve “‘ money to pay,” You'll find it the wiser plan, And a penny lay by for a rainy day, Is a motto for every man. (CHORUS,) A coward gives in at the first repulse, A brave man struggles again. With a resolute eye and a bounding pulse, To battle his way among men. $ For he knows he has one chance in his time, To better himself if he So make your hay while the sun doth shine, That’s a motto for every man. (CHORUS.) Economy study but don’t be mean, A penny may lose a pound. Thro’ this world a conscience clear, Will carry you safe and sound. It’s all very well to be free, I must own, To do a good turn when you can, But charity always commences at home, That’s a motto for every man. (CHORUS.) Her Bright Smile Haunts Me Still. AS SUNG BY MESSRS. HARDING, SHACKELTON, DWYER & FIELD. Published by E. H. Harprne, 229 Bowery, New York. Music and words, 10 cents. Tis years since last we met, And we may not meet again— T have struggled to forget, But the struggle is in vain; For her voice lives on the breeze, And her spirit comes at will: In the midnight on the seas, Her bright smile haunts me still! For her voice lives on the breeze, And her spirit comes at will: In the midnight on the seas, Her bright smile haunts me still! At the first sweet dawn of light, When I gaze upon the deep, Her form still greets my sight, While the stars their vigils keep; When I close my aching eyes, Sweet dreams my senses fill, And from sleep when I arise, Her bright smile haunts me still! When I close my aching eyes, “ Sweet dreams my senses fill, And from sleep when I arise, Her bright smile haunts me still! Lhave sail’d ‘neath alien skies, I have trod the desert path, I have seen the storm arise, Like a giant in his wrath; Ev’ry danger I have known That a reckless life can fill, Yet her presence is not flown— Her bright smile haunts me still! Ev’ry danger I have known That a reckless life can fill, Yet her presence is not flown— Her bright smile haunts me still! _ pti, Siac. gate, dhclient, Ma alta Pat ali le i a Se ae a aaa nl el Sm a I’M A B’HOY. I’m a Bhoy, I’m a B’hoy, And my name it is Mose, I’m ne’er so well pleased As when playing my hose, And which, with my engine, I love better, I guess, Than any thing else On this world I possess, I'm a Bhoy, ’m af B’hoy, And a butcher by trade, And I guess you will find, I’m a pretty cute blade. And to get up a muss, Or a jolly good fight, Is next to a fire, that In which I most delight. I'm a Bhoy, I’m a B’hoy, Of the true New York breed, On boiled pork and beans I delight much to feed. TPve a gal that I love, A gallus lass she is, She can dance and can sing, And her name it is Liz. I’m a Bhoy, I’m a B’hoy, With my engine I go, And where’er there’s a fire Up the water I throw. When evening it comes, For the Vauxhall I start, And take with me there Liz, the gal of my heart, Pm a B’hoy, I’m a B’hoy, And as free as the air, And there ne’er was a B’hoy Who with me could compare. I can fight, I can wrestle, Know a trick or two; It must be a cute cove Whoe’er does nije do. LITTLE WAXED MUSTACHE. SUNG BY LITTLE NELL, THE CALIFORNIA DIAMOND, Copied by permission of Ler & Waker, Music Publishers, Philadelphia, owners of the copyright. I don’t know what his name is, I don’t know where he dwells, I only know his voice is As musical as bells; And oh! he’s such a dancer, And cuts so vast a dash, He really is a darling, My ‘‘little waxed mustache.” Csorus—A darling, such a darling, So graceful and so fair, Td really like to kiss him— I only wish I dare. He’s such a charming talker, Has such a taking way, That all the ladies like him, And cal] him sweet and gay. But oh! I mean to have hi, Though prudes may think me rash, I really mean to have him, My “‘little waxed mustache.” (CHORUS.) Don’t talk to me of glory, Don’t talk to me of fame; I “take no stock” in either, For neither is my game. I’m fond of love and music, I’m fond of vim and flash, And surely I have found them In “‘little waxed mustache.” (CHORTS.) —_— TOO SSS eee een en ee ee. | 14 THE SINGER’S LIBRARY. en THE STEAM ARM. H. V. SMITH. Oh! wonders sure will never cease, While works of art do so increase— No matter whether in war or peace, Men can do whatever they please. Ri too ral loo -31, ste, A curious tale I will unfold To all of you, as I was told, About a soldier stout and bold, Whose wife, ’tis said, was an arrant scold. : Ri too ral loo ral, ete. At Waterloo he lost an arm, Which gave him pain and great alarm; But he soon got well, and grew quite calm, For a shilling a day was a sort of balm. Ri too ral loo ral, ete. The story goes, on every night, His wife would bang him left and right; So he determin’d out of spite, To have an arm, cost what it might. Ri too ral loo ral, etc. He went at once, strange it may seem, To have one made, to work by steam; For a ray of hope began to gleam, That force of arms would win her esteem. Ri too ral loo ral, ete. The limb was finish’d and fixed unto His stump of a shoulder, neat and true, You'd have thought it there by nature grew, For it stuck to its place as tight as glue. Ri too ral loo ral, ote, He started home and knock’d at the door, His wife her abuse began to pour; He turn’d a small peg, and before He'd time to think, she fell on the floor. Ri too ral loo ral, ete, With policemen soon his room was fill’d, But every one he nearly kill’d; For the soldier’s arm had been so drill’d, That once in action, it couldn’t be still’d. Ri too ral loo ral, ete. They took him at once before the mayor— His arm kept moving all the while there; The mayor cried, “‘ Shake your fist, if you dare!” ‘When the steam arm knock’d him out of his chair. Ri too ral loo ral, ete, This rais’d in court a bit of clamor, The arm going on like an auctioneer’s hammer; It fell in weight like a pavior’s rammer, And many with fear began tou stammer, Ri too ral loo ral, etc. He was lock’d in a cell from doing harm, To satisfy those who had still a qualm; When, all at once, they had an alarm, Down fell the walls, and out popp’d the arm. Ri too ral loo ral, ete, He soon escap’d and reach’d his door, And knock’d by steam-raps half a score, But as the arm in power grew more and more, Bricks, mortar, and wood soon strew’d the floor. Ri too ral loo ral, ete. With eagerness he stepp’d over each chair, Popp’d into the room—his wife was there; “Oh, come to my arms!” she cried, ‘‘ my dear;” When his steamer smash’d the crockery-ware. Ri too xal loo ral, ete He left his house at length outright, And wanders about just like a sprite; For he can’t keep still, either day or night, For his arm keeps moving with two-horse might. Ri too ral loo ral, ete. SINGLE BLESSEDNESS A FIB. SUNG BY SOL SMITH RUSSELL. Copied by permission of Wm. A. Ponp & Co., 547 Broadway, New York, owners of the copyright. Life is real, life is dual, Single blessedness a fib; “ Man’s thou art, to man returnest,” Has been spoken of the rib. Not enjoyment, and not sorrow, Is our destined end or way; But to act that each to-morrow Brings us nearer marriage-day. Life is long and youth is fleeting, And our hearts, though light and gay, Still like merry drums are beating Wedding-marches all the way. In the world’s broad field of battle, In the bivouac of life, Be not like dumb, driven cattle— Be some hen-pecked husband’s wife, Our grandmothers’ lives remind us, We can make our lives sublime, Leaving little tracks behind us, Footprints on the sands of time, Let us, then, be up and doing, With a heart on triumph set; Still contriving, still pursuing, Till we each a husband get. wo QUIT DAT TICKLIN’ ME. WILL, 8. HAYS’S GREAT DOUBLE SONG. Copied by permission of J. L. Perers, Music Publisher, New York, owner of the copyright. Hx—lI’s done put down de banjo An’ from de cabin flew, To meet you here dis ebenin’ To dance and sing wid you. SHEe—Oh, Eph, I’m glad to meet you, To help you dance and sing, To see you throw dat foot ob yours An’ cut de ‘ pigeon-wing.” Cxorvus—Hr—Oh, quit dat ticklin’ me, SHE—Oh, quit dat ticklin’ me, Botu—Go ’way an’ let me be. Hx—I love you in de ebenin’, I love you in de morn’, I love you in de kitchen, And when I’m hoein’ corn. SHz—Oh, come here to me, Ephraim, I love you as my life, We'll get married right away An’ den T'll be your wife. (CHORUS.) Hu—Lizzie, fit de kitchen, Put de pans away, Drive de dog out ob de house, I’ain’t got long to stay. Suz—Ole massa an’ ole missus Dey done set us free, V’s de mistress ob dis house, An’ you belongs to me. (CHORUS.) He—Come to me, my Liza Jane, Liza, git up an’ git, Take de cabin in de lane, An’ we'll be happy yit. Sxx—Ephraim, git your banjo, An’ bring de fiddle, too, Quit dat, Ephraim, ticklin’ me, An’ Pll quit ticklin’ you. (CHoRUS.) THE SINGER’S LIBRARY. 15 THE SPARKLING SOLITAIRE. Copied by permission of FrepERICK_BiuME, 861 Broadway, New York, owner of the copyright. Music and words, 3 cents. There’s one sweet face in all this world, whose smile to me is bliss, One pretty pair of pouting lips that I would love to kiss; And this fairy little Queen, is only seventeen; Her voice is sweetest music, as it floats upon the air; Her style is very neat, and she has such tiny feet, And on her dainty finger is a sparkling Solitaire. CHorus—She’s deep blue eyes and golden hair! With dimpled cheeks and face so fair; She’s a Queen among the Bon-Tons, Is this lovely Millionaire, Upon her dainty finger is a sparkling Solitaire. One moonlight night I whisper’d love into her willing ear, She blush’d and nestled to my side, and brush’d away a tear, While my brain was in a whirl I kiss’d this darling girl; We sat for hours so happy, and she said my lot she’d share, And then we did agree that next week we’d married be, And on her dainty finger is a sparkling Solitaire. (CHorvus.) MAY THE BEST MAN WIN! Copied by permission of E. H. Harpine, 229 Bowery, New York, owner of the copyright. Music and words, 10 cents. Election day is coming, The foes are in the field; Both sides have gallant champions, Their liberty to shield; The folks are all excited, And making such a din, But I’m content with wishing, May the best man win. CHorus—Vote, boys, vote whatever way it please you; Vote, boys, vote, and don’t make such a din. Vote, boys, vote, I hope it won’t displease you, To keep as my motto, ‘‘ May the best man win!” In every town and village, Each party will arise, And shout against each other The greatest truth and lies; They’ll spend their money freely, And give you lots of “ chin;” But I can shout above them— May the best man win. (CHORUS. ) Our leaders we will follow, And stand, with courage true, Beneath our flying banners, Where victory is due. We'll fight our battles bravely, And never once give in; Success to honest voters, May the best man win. (CHORUS.) ———_40o Beside the Sweet Shannon. Copied by ‘permission of Wm. A. Ponp & Co., 547 Broadway, New York, owners of the copyright. Music and words 40 cents. Beside the sweet Shannon at ev’ning I stray, Fondly thinking, dear Dermot, of thee, And the hour we plighted our faith ‘neath the stars, Ere you left me to cross the wide sea. Oh! the night-bird is wailing sad notes to its mate, While the breeze whispers low in the tree, As I cry out aloud with my heart full of tears, “Dear Dermot, come back} love, to me.” CHorvus—Oh! the night-bird is wailing sad notes to its mate, While the breeze whispers low in the tree, As I cry out aloud, with my heart full of tears, “Dear Dermot, come back, love, to me.” As I gaze on the stars in the soft summer eve, Sadly dreaming, dear Dermot, of thee, Sure I pray in my heart, that, wherever thou art, The bright stars may soon guide thee to m-. Oh, darling, come back to your “ Hilleen Asi vv,” When the spring-flow’rs are painting the lu, With our love in a cabin, we've riches galore, Then come back, dear Dermot, to me. (CHORUS.) oR | Beadle’s Half-Dime Singer's Library. 1? -Owes An Encyclopedia of Song! —_—— —— Containing all the best Lyrics, Ballads, Burlosques, Travesties and Vernacular Songs of the day—Old Favorites and New— Gems of English, Irish, Scotch, Negro, Sailor, and Student Mel- ody and Song:—all printed in beautiful style, with finely colored Initial Sing from original Designs by the Best Artists.—Wo songs repeated / By far the Cheapest and Most Attractive Song Series ever issued ! Nothing offensive, vulgar or exceptionable, but worthy of a place in every household and in every Song Lover’s hand. ALREADY ISSUED. 1 Whoa Emma ! and 59 other Songs. 2 Captain Cuff and 57 other Songs. 3 The Gainsboro’ Hat and 62 other Songs. 4 Johnny Mcrgan and 60 other Songs. 5 Pll Strike You With a Feather and 62 other Songs. 6 George the Charmer and 56 other Songs. The Belle of Rockaway and 52 other Songs, 8 Young Fellah, You’re Too Fresh and 60 other Songs. 9 Shy Young Girl and 65 other Songs. 10 I’m the Governor’s Only Son and 58 other Songs. 11 My Fan and 65 other Songs. 12 Comin’ Thro’ the Rye and 55 other Songs, 13 The Rollicking Irishman and 59 other Songs. 14 Old Dog Tray and 62 other Songs. 15 Whoa, Charlie and 59 other Songs. 16 In this Wheat By and By and 62 other Songs. 17 Nancy Lee and 58 other Songs. 18 I’m the Boy that’s Bound to Blaze and 67 other Songs. 19 The Two Orphans and 59 other Songs. 20 What are the Wild Waves Saying, Sister? and 59 other Songs. 21 Indignant Polly Wog and 59 other Songs. 22 The Old Arm-Chair and 58 other Songs. 23 On Coney Island Beach and 58 other Songs. 24 Old Simon, the Hot-Corn Man and 60 others. 25 I’m in Love and 56 other Songs. 26 Parade of the Guards and 56 other Songs. 27 Yo, Heave, Ho! and 60 other Songs, 28 ’Twill Never do to Gib it up So and 60 other Songs, 29 Blue enaete Over the Border and 54 other ongs. 30 The Merry Laughing Man and 56 other Songs. 31 Sweet Forget-me-Not and 55 other Songs, 32 Leetle Baby Mine and 53 other Songs. 33 De Banjo am de Instrument for Me and 53 other Songs. 34 Taffy and 50 other Songs. 35 Just to Please the Boys and 52 other Songs. 36 Skating on One in the Gutter and 52 other Songs. 37 Kolored Kranks and 49 other Songs. 38 Nil Desperandum and 53 other Songs. 39 The Girl I Left Behind Me and 50 other Songs. 40 ’Tis but a Little Faded Flower and 50 other Songs. Sold everywhere by Newsdealers, at five cents per copy, or feet post-paid, to any address, on receipt of Sia cents per num- er, BEADLE & ADAMS, Publishers, 98 William Street, New York.