Over 50 Songs.

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| Young Fellah, You’re Too Fresh,
| Pl Speak to You Gladly Again, .
| Good-by, Lovely Lou....
| Killarney, +... Kos, voce gassiga
| Up With the Lark in the Morning
| Aaviuliyeily Vy 25. eee eee
| — Sit by my Side, Little Dar-
| The Finest Police in the World!.
| Uncle roars PROCNED. . cnataiags «

That’s the Proper Caper.........
| Call Me Your Darling Again... .
| I’m Going Home to Dixie........
| The Teetotal Society ...... ..
|The Candidate for Alderman. ..
| Cid Bla Soe. Aerts ens

Our Girls .

She Martti Wiad OW ey occav wank

The Little Ones Asleep. os

“Come Back to Erin.

Minnie Dear...

avai AND SENTIME,

SONGS

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—MCra

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Price, 5 Cents.

CONTENTS OF THIS NUMBER.°

AGE. PAGE,

1} Only Speak Kindly to Me ........ 8
2} Muldoon, the Solid Man......... 9
2} Little More Cider, .5./.. 223. 14g
2| The Dear Little Shamrock...... 9
8 | Dot German Band... q
3 | My Own, My Guiding Star, .....
There is no Harm in Kissing....

3 | Kitty Clyde . ig. <2 eae

8 | Jordan is a Hard Road to Travel. 10
3| My Gal, Hanna Bee ce be eae
4 | On the Beach at Long Branch... 11
4!When Brown Comes Rolling
4+... Home:3... F iad
4! The Irish Emigrant’s Lament

5 | Dat Gay Old Nieger Ball

5 | Would I Were With Thee. . ....

5 | The Harp and Sword of Erin....

5\ ‘*Oh Would I Were a Bird.”’.....

5 | La-de-da-de Micks .............

6; Helsn’ta Ee MOOR Ses 5 55

6 | Don’t Give Up the Ship 3

| Row, Row Your Boat ... 64 Unhappy Jeremiah.............

| Wait for the Turn of the . 6, Happy Hezekiah......

| Schaky Gratzenstein... . 6| Minnie Rooke te ak

| Nobody's Darling but M | Aim t You Awhile res. 4.25 1

| The City Boliceman. . ‘7 Our Captain’s Last Words .. ...
Tra-la-la, George} ...... | My Little Wife Ashore... ....
The Belle of the Day... .. . %|Brother’s Fainting at the Door..
Pat Roach at the Play. ioc | Bobbin’ Amend. 2. 2.2652 ..8
Willie, We Have Missed You . One Hundred Years...
When the Blossoms are White in Those Dark Eyes .....

the Orchards: 32... 27k. ...+. se 8 | Isnt He.a Dazlinete+. 37... 6.3

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Young Fellah, You’re too Fresh.

| Copied by permission of E. H. Harprna, 229 Bowery, New York, owner
of the copyright. Music and words, 10 cents,

Because I am a countryman
And a stranger in the city,

All sorts of tricks they play on me,
And they think their actions witty;

When I go out I turn about,
And peculiar smiles I see,

“ Oh, ain’t he fresh!” I hear them shout,

While they take long looks at me.

 

Sroxen—lI can’t understand it «tall. No matter where I go,
I hear some personal remarks, I don’t like personal remarks.
They strike deep into my sensitive breast and make me swear. I
say, “Dem it, what does it mean?” and echo answers, “ Dem if,
what does it mean?” ‘The very day I arrived in this city I asked a
man up at the Grand Central Depot, if he knew where I could en-
gage a nice furnished room. “Ob,” says he, “ you’re after fur-
nished rooms, eh? Well, sir, you’re in the wrong neighborhood.
You don’t belong here. Well, sir, 1 suppose you'll keep correct by
following your nose.” I told him he was very impertinent. Bus
as I walked awav in silence and dismay, I heard the fellow say

in a very peculiar way:

 

Cuorus—‘“ Young fellah, you’re too fresh,
Young fellah, you’re too fresh,
It strikes me very forcibly,

: Z Me UL RN Young fel!ah, you're too fresh.”

AND SIXTY OTHER SONGS IN THIS ISSUE!

Sold by all newsdealers, five cents each; or sent, post-paid, to any address, on receipt
of sae conts per copy, BEADLE & ADAMS, Publishers, 03 William St., N. ¥.

 

One day last week I took a car,
And a stranger sat beside me,

Who stole my watch and pocket-book,
Tho’ to prove it he defied me;

 
 

 

 

 

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I went and saw a man of law,
And I begg’d his best advice,
“ My friend,” said he, “ you’re very fresh—
Why you’ve just come off the ice.”

   

Spoxen—I thought that a very strange expression for a man
of law. I told him he mustcertainly be mistaken, for I had never
| been on theice in my life. ‘‘Oh, yes, you have,” says he, ‘‘ meta-
{  phorically speaking you have, sir; you have been on the ice of
( innocence, you have lived in an atmosphere of arctic virtue free

from the burning influence of metropolitan wickedness.” He
wanted to convince me that 1 was an ice man I suppose. But as
) he could give me no satisfaction for the loss I sustained I left him,
| and as I came down-stairs, I heard him say: (CHORUS.)
|

I took my girl to Central Park,

And while there I grew quite spoony,
I asked her if she’d marry me,
“ Why,” says she, ‘you must be loony.”
T told her “‘ No, it is not so,

I assure you I’m quite sane,
You know I love you very much,

Oh, don’t let me love in vain.”

Spoxen—She didn’t seem to understand my feelings correctly,
although f poured out my love in strains worthy of a troubadour.
.All she would say was, ‘‘Oh, don’t, please don’t, I want to go
home, please don’t.” (CHORUS.)

‘¢ Nay home thou shalt not go,
Till reasons good I know,
Why thou wilt not bestow,
Thy love on me:
And fill with glee
This breast now shadowed o’er by woe.
By jingo!.yes, the cause [’ll know,
Speak out, oh fairest creature, speak!
Tell me what secret hate thou hast!
The tale [ hear may make me weak
And all my hopes and fancies blast,
But I must know, yes I must know,
Wherefore thou slightest me.”

ea cere oe

Sroxmn—I began to get excited, so she thought she had better
explain herself. You may judge of my astonishment when she
remarked: (CHORUS.)

“Tll Speak to You Gladly Again.”

Copied by permission of Wu. A. Ponn & Co.,
owners of the copyright. Music and words, 35 cents.

Pll speak to you gladly again, love,
And try to forgive and forget,

Tl think of how happy we've been, love,
Since first ’mid the flowers we met,

_ Pil tell you how fondly I’ve waited,

To welcome you back as my own,

While sorrow my young life has froighted
With grief I have patienly borne.

CxorvUS—I’ll speak to youg ladly again, love,
And try to forgive and forget,
Vl think of how happy we’ve been, love,
Since first ’mid the flowers we met.

Forgetting the vows you have broken,
Dll meet you again with a kiss,
Forgiving the words you have spoken,
If you will but promise me this:
That ne’er while yon bright moon doth shine, love,
Shall sorrow’s tears rest on my cheek,
Then gladly I’ll say I am thine, love,
I’m waiting the fond words to speak. (Ciorus.)
What joy when again are united
The loves that had wandered apart,
To know that the hopes that were blighted,
Are blooming again in the heart.
The beautiful stars of the gloaming,
Shine out with a glittering light,
As if they all knew you were coming
To make me so happy to-night. (CHORUS.)

Le eee oo

 

 

547 Broadway, New York, '

 

‘Good-by, Tavaly Lou.
Published by J. E. Drrson & Co., Philadelphia. Music and words, 30 cents.

’T was early in the month of May I said to my girl Lou,

“ As Iam going far away I’m going to ask if you

Will constant be while I’m at sea?’ She bowed her lovely head, ,
Then placed her tiny hands in mine, and I to her then said:

CHORUS.
“ Good-by, good-by, good-by, lovely Lou,
Think of me when I'm at sea and I will think of you.
Good-by, good-by, good-by, lovely Lou,
Think of me when I’m at sea and I will think of you.”

She said, “‘To you I will be true, to do the same I ought,

Tho’ I am told you sailors have a wife in ey’ry port.”

I said, ‘‘ Now, Lou, don’t look so blue, or think me so unkind,
I never could ‘forget the girl that I have left behind. (CHOo.)

“ Pve one thing, Lou, to tell to you before the seas I roam,
And that is of the presents Iam going to bring you home:
An Indian shawl, a parasol, a tiny kangaroo,

A monkey, and a parrot, yes, and they are all for you.” (CHO.)

I bid adieu to lovely Lou, we parted on the shore,

And something seem’d to tell me I should never see her more.
When I return’d I quickly learn’d that she had gone away,

So now as Lou has proved untrue why I can only say: (Cuo.)

Alinco leap

KILLARNEY.

Published by FrepEerick Biumx, 861 Broadway, New York. Music and
words, 30 cents.
By Killarney’s lakes and fells,*
Em’rald isles and winding bays,
Mountain paths and woodland dells, é
Mem’ry ever fondly strays; x
Bounteous nature loves all lands,
Beauty wan‘fers ev’ry where, “
Footprints leaves ‘on many strands, ‘
‘But her home i ‘surely there!
Angels fold their wings and rest.
In that Eden of the: West,
Beauty’s hom . Killarney,
Ever tair Killarney.

Innisfallen’s ruin’d shrine A
May suggest a passing sigd, <
But, man’s faith can ne’er decline,
Such God’s wonders ater by:
Castle Lough and Gle
Mountains Tore ate Nest, ®
Still at Mucross you must pray,
Though the monks are not at rest.
Angels wonder not that man,
There would fain prolong life’s span:
Beauty’s home, Killarney,
Ever fair Killarney.

*
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No place else can charm tise eye
With such bright and varied tints,
Ev’ry rock that you pass by,
Verdure broiders or besprints.
Virgin there the green grass grows,
Ey’ry morn spring’s natal day,
Bright-hued berries daff the snows,
Smiling winter’s frown away.
Angels often pausing there,
Doubt if Eden were more fair:
Beauty’s home, Killarney,
Ever fair Killarney.

Music there for echo dwells,
Makes each sound a harmony,
Many voiced the chorus swells,
Till it faints in ecstasy,
With the charmful tints below,
Seems the heav’n above to vie,
All rich colors that we know,
Tinge the cloud-wreaths in that sky.
Wings of angels so might shine,
Glancing back soft light divine:
Beauty’s home, ‘Killarney,
Ever fair Killarney.
*To sit on rocks, to muse o’er flood and fell.

 

 

 

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Up With the Lark in the Morning.

Published by E. H. Harprve, 229 Bowery, New York. Music and words,
10 cents.
I like to be jolly in a moderate way,
But think it a pity to hear folks say,
Drink and be merry, till the break of day,
No jolly dog am I.
On my exertions I depend,
No other wealth I crave,
And though I have the heart to spend,
I’ve still the sense to save.

Cuorus—For I never drink hard, it don’t suit me,
Nor toast my friend with a one, two, three,
Merry and wise is the motto for me,

And up with the lark in the morning.

There’s a time for pleasure, and a time for play,
A time to labor, and a time to be gay,
If the sun shines brigh!, you must make your hay,
And Vil tell the reason why:
To-day we may be hale and strong,
To-morrow, who can tell?
Without the health to earn a pound,
’ Without a friend as well.
¢ Cuorvus—So I, ete.

If I had the money that many have got,
I'd scatter a bit in the laborer’s cot,
And the struggling poor, for I pity their lot,
No miserly man am I.
No deserving man should say,
He ever pass’d my door
In want upon the world’s highway,
I'd ne’er forget the poor.
Cuorus—Tho’ I, ete.

So I’ve always a penny if I want to lend,
Tv always a penny if I want to spend,
I’ve always a penny for a poor old friend,
For a careful man am J. :
I envy not the rich man’s lot,
Or prince’s diadem,
The poor man working at the plow,
Will one day equal them. (CHoRUs.)

AWFULLY FLY!

Copied by permission of E. H. Harprna, 229 Bowery, New York, owner
of the copyright. Music and words, 10 cents,

I’m young and shy, but awfully fly,
You never can take me in!

T know what’s right and know what’s wrong,
And the world’s good grace I win.

I travel around, and can be found
In society so high;

I flirt with the belles, and talk to the swells,
And they tell me I’m awfully fly!

Cuorus—I’m awfully fly! I’m awfully fly!

I’m up to all dodges and winks of the eye!
A joke, or a guy, with me never try;

Be careful, young fellows, I’m awfully fly!

I dress so gay in gallant display,
And ramble around in style,

My friends are many and when we meet,
‘You should see me bow and smile. :

Some think I’m in love, but no, by Jove!
Of sweethearts I am shy;

My parents object, and fondly expect,
That I shall be awfully fly! (Cuorus.)

My heart is light, and spirits are bright,
My purse is full and free,

I drink good, wine and I pass my time
In a festive world of glee,

Tl marry some day, (as I hope you may),
And my love shall never die,

But ere I am tied, Pll say to my bride,
Look out, for ’m awfully fly! (Corus. )

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Come Sit by my Side, Little Darling.
Copied by permission of J. L, Peters, 599 Broadway, New York, owner of
the copyright.
Come, sit by my side, little darling,
And lay your brown head on my breast,
While the angels of twilight around us,
Are singing the flowers to rest.
Your hands are as fair as the lilies,
That blossom in shadows of green,
And their touch has a magical power,
My heart from all sadness to wean.

CxHorus—Come, sit by my side, little darling,
And lay your brown head on my breast,
While the ange’s of twilight around us,
Are singing the flowers to rest.

I dream when your arms are around me,
That life is an infinite calm;

Your kiss has the spell of a charmer,
Your kiss that is sweeter than balm.

Oh, what could be sweeter than dreaming
This dream that is on us to-night?

Let us think of the present, my darling,
The future is out of our sight. (CHORUS.)

Sing low in the twilight some ballad,
As sweet as the smile on your face,
That shall thrill me with melody’s sweetness,
And touch with its words’ tender grace,
And Tl give you a kiss when it’s ended,
A kiss that the singer shall earn;
And perhaps, do you hear, little darling?
I shall ask for a kiss in return. (CHORUS.) ‘

 

“he Finest Police in the World!”

Copied by permission of E. H. Harpine, 229 Bowery, New York, owner
of the copyright. Music and words, 10 cents.
We're the finest police in the wcrld,
In a gay dress of blue, they enfold us,
We arrest all offenders of law,
And the people are proud to behold us;
We walk the streets all the long dark night,
And we take good care to be far from a fight,
Our clubs are hard, and our shields are bright,
We're the finest polico in the world.

Cuorus—We're the finest, we're the bravest,
We're the grandest police in the world,

We're the finest, we’re the bravest,
We're the grandest police in the world.

We're the finest police in the world,
And our praises are sung in the papers;
When we find a disorderly man,
Very soon he is cur’d of his capers;
We are the pride of the nation wide,
And around our footsteps, no law is defied;
The rogues all fear us on ev’ry side,
We're the finest police in the world. (CHoRUS.)

roils

Uncle Pomp’s Return.

BY H. S. SARGENT.

I am aged and gray, my youth hab passed away,
And ’fore many days I’ll climb de golden stair;

For de time am drawing nigh when old Uncle Pomp will die,
And go up to lib wid ange!s in de air.

But ’fore I go above, I'll see de ones I love,
De ones for which my heart kab often yearned,

For de good old Dixie’s Land, and dat joyous darky band,
Oh! dey’ll be glad old Uncle Pomp’s returned.

I can’t forget de day, dat old massa passed away,
Which caused dis chile to stay away from home;

But now dat I am here, ’mong de ones dat am so dear,
Isber any more is gwine to roam.

And I'll take de old banjo, jist as I used to do,
And to de good, kind Lord, I'll sing my praise,

And think forever more ob dem happy times ob yore,
For I nebber can forget dose happy days.

 

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Copied by permission of FE. H. Harpina, 229 Bowery, New York, owner
of the copyright. Music and words, 10 cents.
Iam a man of easy mind,
I know no care or woe,
I make myself agreeable
Wherever I may go;
My friends I count them by the score,
And the reason | will tell,
I always do things properly,
And consequently well.

Spoxen—To do things properly, my friends, is a great accom-
plishment; and whenever I meet with a person who, properly
speaking, can be called a proper person, I am always ready to
properly appreciate his qualities and give expression to my ad-
miration. In fact, such a person always induces me to say:

Cxuorus—That’s the proper caper,

That’s the proper caper,

When things are done in proper style,
I always like to say:
That's the proper caper,
That’s the proper caper,

Be fair and true in all you do,
For that’s the proper way.

The other day I met a friend,
A very nice young man,

I ask’d him could he dine with me,

_ Of course said he I can;

We dined and wined in sumptuous style,
And smok’d our Henry Clays,

And when we parted he remarked,

‘My friend, I like your way.”

Spoxen—“ Oh that’s all right, my dear fellow,” snid I. ‘‘ When
shall I see you again?” He told me he would be delighted to see
me at any time under the same circumstances. He also told me
I was a charming tellow. ‘‘ Thank you,” said I, and I went off
singing—(CHORUS.'

My sweetheart is a pretty girl,
So lovely and so fair,

Some day she’s going to marry me,
My future life to share;

A vich young man was after her,
But his love she could not see,
She told him he was vot the thing,

She rather fancied me.

Spoxen—A very commendable idea on her part, don’t you
think so? Perhaps the rich young man was not of the same opin-
iow, but no matter about that. At any rate I thought it a very
proper occasion to remark—(CHORUS.)

te

Call Me Your Darling Again !

Copied by permission of E. H. Harprna, 229 Bowery, New York, owner
of the copyright. Music and words, 85 cents.
Call me your darling again,

And give me the smile I adore,
Say that I love not in vain,

Oh, keep me in sorrow no more!
Shadows are stealing around me,

And deep in the heart there’s a pain;
Oh, come to my side and caress me,

And call me your darling again;
Comes to my side and caress me,

And call me your dariing again.

CHorus —Call me your darling again,
Join in my fond heart’s refrain,
Oh come to my side and caress me,
f And call me your darling again.

Whisper your sweet words of love,
And banish my heart’s weary sighs;
Pure as the bright stars above,
Ts the lovelight that dwells in your eyes!
Tell me there’s joy for the morrow,
To thee ever true I'll remain,
Oh, wake, love, from silence and sorrow,
And call ine your darling again;
Wake, love, trom silence ani sorrow,
And call me your darling again. (CHoRUS.)
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I’m Going Home to Dixie.

Copied by permission of Firru, Ponp & Co., Music Publishers, 547 Broad-
way, New York, owners of the copyright.
There is a Jand where cotton grows,
A land where milk and honey flows,
I’m going home to Dixie—yes, I am going home,

CuHorus—I've got no time to tarry,
TP’ve got no time to stay,
Tis a rocky road to travel,
To Dixie, far away.

I will climb up the highest hill,

And sing your praise with right good will,

I’m going home to Dixie—yes, Iam going home. (CHO.)
TP’ve wandered far, both to and fro,

But Dixie’s heaven here below,

I’m going home to Dixie—yes, Iam going home. (CHO.)
Oh, list to. what I’ve got to say,

Freedom to me will never pay!

I’m going home to Dixie—yes, Iam going home. (CHO.)
A shadow and a phantom frail,

The mighty truth—it must prevail,

I’m going home to Dixie—yes, Iam going home. (CHO.)
In Dixie land the fields do bloom,

And colored men have welcome room,

Tm going home to Dixie—yes, Iam going home. (CHO.)
I will proclaim it loud and long,

I love old Dixie, right or wrong,

I’m going home to Dixie—yes, I am going home.

 

THE TEETOTAL SOCIETY.

Published by E. H. Harprne, 229 Bowery, N.Y. Music and words, 10 cents,

Come listen, kind gentlefolks all,
To a man of respectable station,
Who’s lately been bless’d with a call
To lecture unto this whole nation.
The subject ve chosen to-night,
I can broach with the greatest propriety;
Tis to get all my friends to unite,
And join the Teetotal Society.

Once I took a great deal of strong drink,
Rum, brandy, and all of that ’ere, sir!
But it now gives me pleasure to think,
Alcohol I scarcely can bear, sir!
Neither wine, beer, nor cider for me, sir!
But I do sometimes take a moiety
Of brandy, mixed into my tea,
Tis allowed by the Total Society!

Should you ask why my nose is so red:
One gentleman there I see winking—
Now to tell you the reason I dread,
But it blushes to see so much drinking.
Should your cheeks be as red as a rose,
And you stick to the strictest sobriety,
The bloom will draw down to your nose,
If you join the Teetotal Scciety!

In your limbs should you have any pains,
Pour rum on the part that’s affected;
Or brandy, internally, for strains;
For rheumatism ’tis not rejected.
You may always keep some in the house,
Only use it with strictest sobriety,
And keep it as snug as a mouse;
Tis allowed by the Total Society!

One night P’d been lecturing hard,
I felt that my breathing grew shorter,
I found that some wag, ’pon my word,
Had put gin in my pitcher of water;
I felt very faint, I declare,
For you know I’m the pink of sobriety;
I was carried home in an arm-chair
My some Mems of the Total Society!

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The Candidate for Alderman.

Copied by permission of E. H. Harvie, 229 Bowery, New York, owner
of the copyright. Music and words, 10 cents.
I am a true-born Irishman,
And I'll ne’er deny the same,
I took a notion to cross the ocean,
To America I came.
When I landed, it was in the year
Of eighteen sixty-two;
I was willing to fight, both day and night,
For the red, white and the blue.

Cxorus—I’m your candidate for alderman,
* So believe me what I say,
Put on your coats and cast your votes
For me on election day.

When I started first in politics,
My friends they were but few;
I can’t forget, ev’ry one I met,
Said that I was too brand-new!
I work’d the pipe on the boulevard,
Along with Mickey Hart;
He was foreman over the old sixth ward,
And the owner of a big ash-cart. (CHORUS.)

So now my friends I must be off,
T can no longer stay,
I hope you won’t forget to vote
For me on election day:
And if Iam the lucky man,
On me you may depend;
If you want to borry, I won’t be sorry,
For I’m the poor man’s friend, (CHoRUS.)

——— ee

OLD BLACK JOE.

Copied by permission of Fir, Ponp & Co., 547 Broadway, New York,
owners of the copyright.

 

Gone are the days when my heart was young and gay,
Gone are my friends from the cotton. fields away,
Gone from the earth to a better land I know—

T hear their gentle voices calling ‘Old Black Joe.”

CHORUS.
I’m coming, I’m coming, for my head is bending low;
I hear those gentle voices calling ‘‘Old Black Joe.”

Why do I weep when my heart should feel no pain?

Why do I sigh that my friends come not again?

Grieving for forms now departed long ago?

I hear their gentle voices calling ‘‘Old Black Joe.” (CxHo.)

Where are the hearts once so happy and so free?

The children so dear that I held upon my knee?

Gone to the shore where my soul has longed to go—

T hear their gentle voices calling “Old Black Joe.” (CHo.)

 

OUR GIRLS.

Copied by permission of E. H. Harprne, 229 Bowery, New York
e ota of the copyright. Music and words, 10 cents, ;

Our boys are the talk of the day,
By ev’ry one lauded and cheered,
They have them writ up in a play,
So much to their country endeared.
But what will become of our girls,
Of them they say nothing at all,
They make a great noise in praise of our boys,
But our girls they are better than all!

Crorus—Onr girls are bright and gay,

You'll see them ev’ry day,

With golden tresses, and pull-back dresses,
While strolling down Broadway.
And in the shop and store,
You'll see as many more,

With joyous faces and charming graces,
The girls that we adore!

 

THE SINGER’S LIBRARY.

 

 

 

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Our girls are as sweet as can be,
Each one has a charm of her own,
Their manners are lively and free,
And the boys ne’er can let them alone.
I’m sure they’re the pride of the land,
Ev’rywhere from the East to the West,
If you seek for a wife to gladden your life,
‘You will find that our girls are the best!

Our girls give us courage to toil,
And help us with counsel and care,
They wash, and they bake, and they boil,
And sometimes our garments repair.
They sew and they sing all the day,
And they make us our breakfast and tea,
If girls we had none, we’d lose all our fun,
And a poor lonely world this would be.

(CHo.)

(Cxo.)

 

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THE YOUNG WIDOW.

Copied by permission of Otiver Drrson & Co., 451 Washington street,
Boston, owners of the copyright.
You see before you a poor, lone widow,
Deserted hy one and all,
For since my darling husband died,
No friends will on me call.
Three years ago I was married to
A man of great renown,
Who indulged in the cognomen of
Triplolmus Muddleworth Brown,

 

Spoxen—Ah, poor dear Brown, he was a good man. I shall
never forget the first time I met him aboard a Jersey steamboat;
he treated me to a sandwich and lager.

Cxorus—I grieve all night and day for his Joss,
With melancholy frown,
Ah, what a darling was the late
Lamented Mr. Brown. :

We use to keep a restaurant,
And they called me pretty Grace,

And lots of nice young men came in;
Attracted by my face.

They squeezed my hand, and much admired
My back hair, when let down,

But I was always faithful to
The late lamented Brown.

SpokeN—Ah, poor dear Brown, I shall never forget one day,
serving behind the counter, three nice young men came in and
looked at me. And poor dear Brown got so jealous—he did—
and I shall never forget the day he died either. I went to his
bedside and said to him, ‘‘ Brown, darling, are you easy and con-
tented within your mind?” and he said, ‘‘ Yes.” He thought,
during his lifetime, he’d bested quite as many as ever bested him.
And then he died happy. (CHORUS.)

 

THE LITTLE ONES ASLEEP.

Copied by permission of E. H. Harpine; 229 Bowery, New York, owner
of the copyright. Music and words, 40 cents.

When the day at last declining,
Brings the peaceful eventide,

When the clouds with golden lining,
All the beauteous sunbeams hide;

Then the heart will fondly cherish
Memories so sweet and deep,

Happy thoughts that ne’er will perish,
Of the little ones asleep.

Cuorus—Fast asleep beneath the daisies,
Nevermore to wake or weep;
While we whisper o’er the praises
Of the little ones asleep.

Summer flow’rs may bud and blossom,
Happy birds will come again,
But we nevermore sball listen
To the children’s glad refrain;
For their dimpled hands are lying
Where the sunbeams never creep,
And our hearts are ever sighing
For the little ones asleep, (CHORUS.)

=. —_—_—

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“COME BACK TO ) ERIN?

Published by E. H- Harpine, 229 Bowery, N.Y. Music and words, 10 cents’

Come back to Erin, Mavourneen, Mavourneen,
Come back, Aroon, to the land of thy birth,
Come with the shamrocks and springtime, Mavourneen,
And it’s Killarney shall ring with our mirth,
Sure when we lent ye to beautiful England,
Little we thought of the lone winter day,
Little we thought of the hush of the star-shine
Over the mountain, the Bluffs and the Brays.

Cuorus—Then come back to Erin, Mavourneen, Mavourneen,
Come back again to the land of thy birth,
Come back to Erin, Mavourneen, Mavourneen,
And it’s Killarney shall ring with our mirth,

 

Over the green sea, Mavourneen, Mavourneen,
Long shone the white sail that bore thee away,

Riding the white waves that fair summer mornin’;
Just like a May flow’r afloat on the bay.

Ob, but my heart sunk when clouds came between us,
Like a gray curtain the rain falling down,

Hid from my sad eyes the path o’er the ocean,

Far, far away where my colleen had flown. (CHORUS,)

Oh, may the angels, oh wakin’ and sleepin’,
Watch o’er my bird in the land far away,

And it’s my pray’rs will consign to their keepin’
Care of my jewel by night and by day.

When by the fireside, I watch the bright embers, ;
Then all my heart flies to England and thee,

Cravin’ to know if my darlin’ remembers,

Or if her thoughts may be crossing to me. (CHORUS.)

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MINNIE DEAR.

Minnie dear has left us,
Bonnie, blithesome lass,
And gone to rest adown the vale,
Beneath the springing grass,
Always kind and gentle,
We did love her well;
How we miss her presence
Words can never tell.

 

CHorus—Minnie dear, Minnie dear, .
Bonnie, winsome lass,
Has gone to rest adown the vale,
Beneath the springing grass.

Nl i ht tt ei lt ED Std a

Minnie loved the blossoms
In the fields so sweet;
And the breezes softly
Came her cheek to greet.
All about the wildwood,
Ling’ring on her way,
Did she lightly wander
Every sunny day. (Ciorvus.)

Minnie left the blossoms
Growing on the lea;

For the angels loved her
Better far than me.

Minnie dear has left us,
Bonnie, blithesome lass,

And gone to rest adown the vale,
Beneath the springing grass. (CHORUS.)

s

 

      

ROW, ROW YOUR BOAT.

way, New York, owners of the copyright.

Down by the river our log hut stands,
Where father and mother once dwelt,
And the old door-latch that was worn by our hands,
And the church where in prayer we knelt;
Years, years have passed since that happy time,
But the river keeps rolling along,
And the rippling sound on the mossy bank,
Is singing the same old song.
CHORUS.
_ Row, row, row your boat, gently down the stream;
All that’s past is gone, you know, the future’s but a dream,

~

ee by permission of Firtu, Ponp & Co., Music Publishers, 547 Broad-

 

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There stands the tree we used to climb,
And the mill with the rolling din,

And the old wharf-boat, there it used to float,
Where the school-boys used to swim.

High grass grows on the master’s grave,
And the river keeps rolling along,

And the birds and the bees, the blossoms, the trees,
Are singing the same old song. (CHORUS.)

a 0

Wait for the Turn of the Tide.

Published by E. H. Harprna, 229 Bowery, N. Y. Music and words, 10 cents,

In sailing along the river of life,
Over its waters wide,
We all have to battle with trouble and strife,
And wait for the time and the tide.
Men of each other are prone to be jealous,
Hopes are illusions and not what they seem,
Life and its pleasures, philosophers tell us,
Go floating away like a leaf on the stream.

Cuorus—Then try to be happy and gay, my boys,
Remember the world is wide,
And Rome wasn’t built in a day, my boys,
So wait for the turn of the tide.

Why people sit fretting their lives away,
I can’t for a moment surmise,
If life is a lottery as they say,
We cannot all turn up a prize.
A folly it is to be sad and dejected,
If “ fortune shows favors ”’ she’s fickle beside,
And may knock at your door some fine day unexpected,
If you patiently wait for the turn of the tide. (CHOo.)

Man is sent into the werld, we’re told,
To do all the good that he can,
Yet how many worship the chink of the gold,
And never once think of the man.
If you are poor from your friends keep a distance,
Hold up your head tho’ your funds are but small,
Once let the world know you need its assistance,
Be sure then you never will get it at all. (CHoRus.)

 

SCHAKY GRATZENSTRIN.

BY LOUIS SPIECKER.

His name vas Jaky Gratzenstein;
Some beoples call him mischiff;
In his buttonhole he wore a shlise of ham
W’at he used as a bocket-han'kershiff.
His hair vas in Sharman ringlets—
His eyes vould make you sick—
Und he gets so mad like a lobster
Ef you hit him in de head mit a brick.

CHorus—Ta, ta, ta, ta, the butter is dear!
Pll meet you in St. Mary street
If de wetter it was clear.
I strike you with a pie plate,
And scrape de hair from off your nose;
The pet of Barnum’s elephants
Is the feller with de tirdeen toes!

His trade it vas a shoemaker
But. he only puts on patches,
Und off he hasn’t got no work
He dravels und sells matches.
His shirt it vas of aber—
His hat vas gingerbread,
Und he vas got dried apples

For feathers in his bed. (CHoRUS.)

He dresses up like a country schwell,
Ven he brominades de shtreed,

Und he vas ready to take a drink
O!f you vas ready to treat.

His drinks vas nectar cider,
Gin cocktail und hot punshes,

Und in bis trunk you'll find

A collection of city lunches. (CHoRus.)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 
 

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~Nobody’s Darling But Mine.

Copied by permission of O. Drison & Co., 451 Washington street, Boston,
owners of the copyright. Music and words, 40 cents,

Nobody’s darling but mine, love,
Nobody loves you like me,

In your bright eyes softly shine, love;
Visions delightful to see;

Visions of beauty and pleasure,
Filling my heart with their love,

Bringing me joys without measure,
Beaming like bright stars above.

CHorus—Nobody loves you like me, love,
Fondly and truly I’m thine,

Promise you ever will be, love,
Nobody’s darling but mine.

Nobody’s darling but mine, love,
Truly I love you the best,
While your sweet arms ’round me twine, love,
Earth is a haven of rest;
Lonely I’d be, love, without you,
And all the joys that you give;
Surely I never could doubt you,
Pride of my heart, while I live. (CHORUS.)
Nobody’s darling but mine, love,
Surely I love you alone,
And my heart ever will pine, love,
Till I may call you my own;
Beautiful fairylike vision,
Bright star of hope, softly shine,
Make my path one bright elysian,
Nobody’s darling but mine.

 

—*-~<e—__—_—_—

THE CITY BOLICEMAN.

BY LOU SPIECKER,
Am—I've been thinking of late, Ive been thinking.

I vas a city boliceman—
Now, vat you dink of det?
You can tole I vas one of dem fellers
By de noomber dot vas on my hat.
Now if I seen boys schump on wagons
I took in dis hand me dis club,
Und if dey got me run over
T'll slog ’em rite square on de kopf.

Cuorus—For I vas a city boliceman,
Now what do you dink of dot?
You can tole I vas one of dem fellers
By de noomber dot vas on my hat.

Last veek I did gone in a tavern,
Vere dey sell dem two for five hummers,
Und dere I vas fearful insulted,
By one of dem drunken bummers.
I went me right up to dis feller,
Und he tre’d on a corn of my foot,
I tole him I wood give him six months,
When he hit me a paste in the schnoot.

Spoxen—Yes, schentelmen, he hit me a paste in de schnoot.
Vell, dot vas too much; I den got my German spunk up und
snatched bim back of his property und took him between two
brick foundation und a barred door. I den went bock to de salloon
und de barkeeper said, ‘“‘S.iy, Dutchy, who you was anyhow, say?”
Weil I tole him dot: (CHorvs.)

Dot feller he den got oxided;
To keep kool I tried my best;

He den made a shot at my cocoanut,
I tole him to pull down his vest.

He said, “‘ Dutchy, you are very plucky,”
Und den give a peculiar wink,

He den gave me a bottle of wisky,

Wich in one swoller down I did drink. (CHorvs.)

 

 

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TRA-LA-LA, GEORGE!

Copied by permission of E. H. Harpine, 229 Bowery, New York, owner
of the copyright. Music and words, 10 cents,
My love is young, and fair, and sweet,
My fancy she can please,
But, oh, she is inclined to flirt
With every one she sees;
Whenever she goes out alone,
She’s sure to catch a beau,
But then, she says it’s all for fun,
And that’s no harm you know!
I want her to be mine,
And oft I tell her so,
But tho’ she don’t decline,
She won’t say yes or no.

Cuorvus—Tra-la-li, George, Tra-la-la, George,
You must go and ask papa, George,
Tra-la-li, George, Tra la-la, George,

You must go and ask papa, ha, ha, ha,

One day she’ll smile, the next she’ll frown,
She is a creature strange,
But there is no one in this town,
For whom I would exchange;
She’s like the rest of womankind,
A riddle hard to read,
I'd like to know just what she means,
*Twould please me much indeed!
I want her to be mine,
To me she is most dear,
But, tho’ she don’t decline,

Her answer pains my ear. (CHORUS.)

Her father is a gruff old man,
With lots of worldly pelf,—
He says his charming daughter is
A fortune in herself;

In that, of course, we both agree,
But when JT speak about

Her hand and heart, we have to part,
For he coolly kicks me out!

I see my love each day,
She says it is a shame,

What will we do—I say—

Her answer was the same. (CHORUS.)

 

THE BELLE OF THE DAY.

By “‘ KID KLYDE.”’,
Atr— Charley the “‘ Masher.”
I’m Nellie Le Raymond, the belle of the day,
My garments are made in the most stylish way,
A love of a bonnet I wear on my head—
The sweetest in town I have often heard said;
When I go out near the close of the day,

To take a gay stroll down crowded Broadway, ~

Most the young fellows go wild over me,
And if you but notice, you will all agree—

Cuorvus—I’m Nellie Le Raymond the gayest of belles,
I go to the concerts with the Avenue swells;
The girls are all envious, so the men say,
Of Nellie Le Raymond the belle of the day.

My papa is wealthy, Pm his only child;

Sometimes he gets angry and says |’m so wild,

That he’ll send me off to a convent to stay,

But Vl pout and ery, then he’ll coaxingly say:
“ Don’t, don’t, Nellie dear, you make me feel sad,

Now pray dry those tears, be merry and glad;”

And so, friends, you see, I have my own way,

I’m Nellie Le Raymond, the belle of the day. (CHo.)

One evening of late, as I was out on the street,
A handsome young beau I happened to meet.
He looked, oh so pretty that I instantly fell

In love with this dashing, laughing young swell.
He approached me and said—‘‘ Please walk for awhile ;”
I nodded my head; replied ‘‘ Yes ” with a smile;
Before parting that eve he compelled me to say
That he’d won the love of the belle of the day.

(CHo.)

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Pat Roach at the Play.

Copied by permission of E. H, Harprna, 229 Bowery, New York, owner
of the copyright. Music and words, 10 cents.
As Pat Roach and the missus from Galway,
In Dublin once hapnen’d to be,
To the play-house they went one fine evening,
Determiin’d diversion to see.
“But,” says Pat as he enter’d, ‘‘There’s no one,
The money to take here at all!”
“ Pay here,” cries a voice; ‘‘ Holy murther!”
Says Pat, ‘‘there’s a man in the wall.”
‘* Pay bere,” cries a voice; ‘‘ Holy murther!”
Says Pat, ‘‘there’s a man in the wall.”

The missus she look’d all around her,
In wonder her eyes sure did roll,
‘ But,” says she, ‘‘ Paddy darlin’, alanna,
He is here like a rat in a hole.”
“ Pay here.” ‘‘ How much is it?” ‘A shilling.”
“ A shilling apiece? that won’t do;
Tis too much, Mister Pay-here, avourneen, } R t
Eighteenpince I will give you for two.” § een
Pat grumbled but paid and got seated,
The band was -beginning to play,
He jigg’d on his seat quite elated,
And to the musicians did say:
‘Tis yerselves that can do it, me bouchals,
And I wish to ye’s wid all my mind,
To the fiddlers more pow’r tu yer elbows, )

Mister bugler, Heav’n spare ye yer wind.” { Repeat.

The play then went on, and Pat wondered,
And sat with his mouth open wide,

As the proud haughty lord of the manor
Sought to make the fair maiden his bride;
“To the mountains,” said he, ‘‘I will bear thee,”

She shrieked as she saw him approach:
‘Ts there no one at hand now to save me?” ? R t
Shouts a voice, “ Yis, me darlin’, Pat Roach!” 5 “*°P°

Then up on the seat jumped brave Paddy,
Said he, ‘‘ Now, you blackguard, begone,
Or a lord though you be tin times over,
T'll knock yer two eyes into one.”
“ Sit down there in front.” ‘‘ What! ye spalpeen,
Is it me you thus dar to addriss?
De ye think that Pat Roach would sit aisy

And see that poor girl in disthress?’ t tec

A scuffle ensued in a minute,
But soon sure the row did subside,

And as Pat gasped for breath he discovered,
Of the door he was at the wrong side;

He soon found the missus; next morning
They started for home, and Pat swore,

If he once landed safely in Galway, }

He’d come up to Dublin no more. ¢ Repeat.

———— ee

Willie, We Have Missed You.

Copied by permission of Firrn, Ponp & Co., 547 Broadway, New York,
owners of the copyright.

Oh, Willie, is it you, dear, safe, safe at home?

They did not tell me true, dear, they said you would not come;

I heard you at the gate, and it made my heart rejoice,

For I knew that welcome footstep, and that dear familiar voice,

Making music on my ear in the lonely midnight gloom;

Oh! Willie, we have missed you; welcome, welcome home.

We've long’d to see you nightly, but this night of all;,

The fire was blazing brightly, and lights were in the hall,

The little ones were up ’till ’twas ten o'clock and past,

Then their eyes began to twinkle and they have gone to sleep at
last;

But they listen’d for your voice till they thought you’d never
come;

Oh! Willie, Wwe have missed you; welcome, welcome home.

The days were sad without you, the nights long and drear,

My dreams have been about you, oh, welcome, Willie dear;

Last night 1 wept and watch’d, by the moonlight’s cheerless ray,

Till I thought I heard your footsteps, then I wiped my tears
away,

But my heart grew sad again, when I found you had not come;

Oh! Willie, we have missed you; welcome, welcome home.

 

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THE SINGER’S LIBRARY.

 

Only Speak Kindly to Me.

Copied by permission of Or1ver Drrson & Co., 451 Washington street,
Boston, owners of the copyright. Music and words, 40 cents

Only speak kindly to me, love,

Smile on me sweetly again, {

What were my words unto thee, love,
Giving you trouble and pain.

Why should our hearts long united
Visions of sorrowing see?

Since to each other we’re plighted, i

Only speak kindly to me;
Since to each other we’re plighted,
Only speak kindly to me.

JuHornuS—Kindly, speak kindly to me, love,
Banish all sorrow and pain,
Happy once more I will be, love,
Only speak kindly again.

Only speak kindly to me, love,
Why should your lips ever chide,
Since I am ever near thee, love,
What can thy poor heart betide?
Surely I never would grieve you,
Careless tho’ often I be,
How could one sad word deceive you, -
Only speak kindly to me;
How could one sad word deceive you,
Only speak kindly to me. (CHORUS.)

Only speak kindly to me, love,
Kiss and forget all your grief,
Let your heart open and free, love,
Find now the sweetest relief.
Nothing to trouble you, ever,
Laugh in your merriest glee,
Say you'll forgive me forever,
And will speak kindly to me;
Say you'll forgive me forever,

And will speak kindly to me. (CHORUS.)

 

When the Blossoms are White in the
Orchard.

Copied by permission of 8. Brarnarp’s Sons, Cleveland, owners of the
copyright. Music and words, 30 cents,
When the blossoms are white in the orchard again,
And the bird song floats over the lea,
I will look for my love and I'll not look in vain,
For ’tis then he is coming to me.
He gave me a promise on going away,
And these were the words that he said,
“ When the blossoms are white in the orchard, dear May,
Once more this old pathway we'll tread.”

CHORUS.
When the blossoms are white in the orchard again,
And the bird song floats over the lea,
T will look for my love and I’ll not look in vain,
For ’tis then he is coming to me.

I will never be sad tho’ the days are so long,
The Blossoms will come by and by,

And the birds will return with their beautiful song,
To welcome my lover and I,

I sometimes feel lonely and wish he was here,
To walk with me down in the glen;

How happy I’ll be when I know he is near,

‘ And never will leave me again, (CHORUS.)

I'd a letter to-day from the one that I love,

And he says that his heart is still true,
‘When the blossoms are white my affection I’ll prove,

For then I am coming to you.”

Ah, how can I doubt him when here ev’ry line
Doth say he is faithful to me;

T’ll trust in his promise I know he is mine,
And soon his dear face I shall see. (CHORUS.)

 

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|

MULDOON, THE SOLID MAN. |

Copied by permission of E. H. Harprne, 229 Bowery, New York, owner
of the copyright. Music and words, 10 cents.
Iam a man of great influence,
And educated to a high degree:
I come here when small from Donegal,
In the Daniel Webster, across the sea.
In the fourteenth ward I situated,
In a tenement-house with my brother Dan;
By perseverance I elevated,
And went to the front like a solid man.

Cuorus—Go with me and Ill treat you dacent,
I'll set you down and [ll fill the can,
As I walk the street, each friend I meet, says:
“There goes Muldoon, he’s a solid man.”

At any party or any raffle,
I always go as an invited guest,

As conspicuous as General Granite, boys,
I wear a rose-bud upon my breast.

I'm call’d upon to address the meeting,
Without regard to clique or clan,

I show the constitution with elocution,
Bekase you know I’m a solid man.

Cxorvus—For oppositions or politicians,
Take my word I don’t give a damn,
As I walk the street each friend I meet, says:
‘“ There goes Muldoon, he’s a solid man.”

I control the Tombs, I control the Island,
My constituents, they all go there
Toenjoy the summer’s recreation,
And the refreshing East river air.
V’m known in Harlem, I’m known in Jarsey,
I’m welcom’d hearty on every hand,
Wid my regalay on Patrick’s Day,
I march away like a solid man.
Caorus—For oppositions, etc.

a ee

LITTLE MORE CIDER.

Copied by permission of Ox1ver Drrson & Co., 451 Washington street,
Boston, owners of the copyright.
I love the white girl and the black,
And I love all the rest;
I love the girls for loving me,
But | love myself the best.
Oh dear, I am so thirsty,
Pve just been down to supper,
I drank three pails of apple-jack,
And a tub of apple-butter.

Cxorvs—Oh, little more cider too,
A little more cider too,
A little more cider for Miss Dinah,
A little more cider too.

When first I saw Miss Snow-flake,
*Twas on Broadway I spied her,
I'd give my hat and boots, I would,

If I could been beside her;
She look’d at me, 1 look’d at her,
And then I cross’d the street,
And then she smiling said to me,

“A little more cider sweet.” (CHORUS. )

Oh, I wish I was an apple,
Ard Snow-flake was another,
Oh, what a pretty pair we'd make,
Upon a tree together;
How bad de darkies all would feel,
When on de tree they. spied her,
To think how happy we would be, >
When we’re made into cider. (CHORUS.)

But now old age comes creeping on,
We grow down and don’t get bigger, |
And cider sweet am sour then, |
And I am just de nigger;
ge But let the cause b2 what it will,
Short, small, or wider,

Rata ee ae

 

She am de apple of my soul,

_ And I’m bound to be beside her. (CHorvus.) — |

 

STF

 

 

BS i eR ny:

 

The Dear Little Shamrock.

Published by E. H. Harpine, 229 Bowery, N.Y. Music and words, 10 cents.

There’s a dear little plant that grows in our Isle,
‘Twas St. Patrick himself sure that set it;
And the sun on his labor with pleasure did smile,
And with dew from his eye often wet it.
It shines thro’ the bog, thro’ the brake, and the mireland,
And he call’d it the dear little Shamrock of Ireland,
The dear little Shamrock, the sweet little Shamrock,
The dear little, sweet little Sbamrock of Ireland.

That dear little plant still grows in our land,
Fresh and fair as the daughters of Erin;
Whose smile can bewitch and whose eyes can command,
In each climate they ever appear in.
For they shine thro’ the bog, thro’ the brake, and the mireland,
Just like their own dear little Shamrock of Ireland,
The dear little Shamrock, the sweet little Shamrock,
The dear little, sweet little Shamrock of Ireland.

That dear little plant that springs from our soil,
When its three little leaves are extended;
Denotes from the stalk we together should toil,
And ourselves by ourselves be befriended. ‘
And still thro’ the bog, thro’ the brake, and the mireland,
From one root should branch like the Shamrock of Ireland,
The dear little Shamrock, the sweet little Shamrock,
The dear little, sweet little Shamrock of Ireland,

ene

DOT GERMAN BAND.

BY LOU SPIECKER,.

I vas one of Sharman Band;
You can tole on my uniform;
W’en we turn oud we go hand in hand,
In good wetter or in storm.
In drillen und of marchen,
We vas counted some of de best,
You ought to see us bressent arms,
Und den pull down our vest.

Cxorus—I tole you we do look so grand,
When we march droo de land,
And always hand in hand,
We are de boys de ladies to enchant,
Clear the way! Here comes de German band.

Our gabtin vas a solid man,
W’en he drows*oud his chest,
He looks so good in his candy hat,
Und in his bolony-skin vest.
De German Fifth dey dry to make
Him out of a big fool,
Begaurs he leads de German Band,
On a great big black miule. (CHoRvs.)

 

My Own, My Guiding Star.
Published by E. H. Harprna, 229 Bowery, N. Y. Music and words, 10 cents,

Thy gentle light would lead me on,
My own, my guiding star,

Till ev’ry sense of life were gone
E’en wert thou plac’d afar.

And now thou deignst so near to shine
With rays that warm and cheer,

The surest, firmest hopes are mine,
My soul is strange to fear.

Yes, thy gentle light shall lead me on,
My own, my guiding star,
My own, my guiding star.

Thou need’st not doubt, thou need’st not grieve,
I bear a potent spell,
Be certain love will ne'er deceive
The heart that serves him well.
I know my path will lead me right
With such a prize in view,
And happy omens bless my sight,
That must that shall be true.
Yes, thy gentie light shall lead me on,

 

 

SN ae as SS Sk a i past ol a

My own, my guiding star, ;
My own, my guiding star. |

 

/

 

 
 

 

Oe OE ea

 

There is no Harm in Kissing’.

Copied by permission of O. Drrson & Co., 451 Washington street, Boston,
owners of the copyright. Music and words, 40 cents,

v
(
{
)
}
)
) Upon the rustic bridge we met
One afternoon in spring;
His loving words I can’t forget,
Within 1 my ears they ring!
The swans were sailing on the lake,
And all the park was gay;
My hand in his he chanced to take,
In such a charming way!
The flow’rs were bright, but oh, his eyes
They shone like stars of night!
His smile was like the the glo wing skies,
And filled me delight.
I seemed in Love’s delicious dream,
My heart with rapture beat;
| And while his eyes did on me beam,

ft heard his lips repeat:

Cxrorus —There is no harm in kissing,
Pray tell me is there, dear?
Those rosy lips invite me, now,
And no one lingers near!
Then loving ones are meeting, —
No prying eyes to mark,—
There is no harm in kissing,
At twilight in the park!

We strolled along where roses grew,
And all was br right and fair;

He promised ever to be true,
And begged my love to share.

The little birds were flying home,
They heard my lips reply;

And stars were bright in yonder dome,
Before we said good-by.

But, oh, he seemed so sad to leave—
My heart grew sad as well,

For love within each heart did weave
Its dear bewitching spell!

We linger’d though the hour was late,
How quick the time had sped!

But when our lips met at the gate,
He softly to me said: (CHORUS.)

 

KITTY CLYDE.

Copied by permission of RusseLn & Teter, Boston, owners of the copy-
rig!
Oh, who has not seen Kitty Clyde?
She lives at the foot of the hill,
In a sly little nook by the babbling brook,
That carries her father’s old mill.
Oh, who does not love Kitty Clyde?
That sunny-eyed, rosy-cheek’d lass,
With a sweet dimpled chin that looks roguish as sin,
With always a smile as you pass.

CHORUS.
Sweet Kitty, dear Kitty, my own sweet Kitty Clyde,
' In astly little nook by the babbling brook,
Lives my own sweet Kitty Clyde.

With a basket to put in her fish,
Every morn with a line and a hook,
This sweet little lass, through the tall, heavy grass,
Steals along by the clear running brook.
She throws her line into the stream,
And trips it along the brook side;
Oh, how I do wish that I was a fish,
To be caught by sweet Kitty Clyde.
Sweet Kitty, dear Kitty, ete.

How I wish that I was a bee,
V’d not gather honey from flowers,
But would steal a dear sip from Kitty’s sweet lip,
And make my own hive in her bowers.
Or, it I was some little bird,
I would not build my nest in the air,
But keep close by the side of sweet Kitty Clyde,
And sleep in her soft silken hair.
Sweet Kitty, dear Kitty, etc.

 

} @

 

nA A eee

40 THE SINGER’S LIBRARY.

Jordan is a Hard Road to Travel.

Of all the banjo songs that have been sung of late,
There is none that is now so often call’d on,

As the one I sing myself, and apply it to the times,
It’s called, ‘‘On the other side of Jordan.”

CuHorus— So I pull’d off my coat, and roll’d up my sleeve,
Jordan’s a hard road to trabble;
So I pull’d off my coat, and roll’d up my sleeve,
Jordan’s a hard road to trabble, I believe.

Around the Crystal Palace there are a great many shows,
Where all the country greenhorns are drawn in—

There are snakes and alligators, mammoth mules and big ’taters,

That were raised on the other side of Jordan. (CHORUS.)
The Sovereign of the Seas, she went to Liverpool,

In less than fourteen days, too, accordin’,
Johnny Bull he wiped his eyes, and looked with surprise,

At this clipper from the Yankee side of Jordan. (CHORUS.)

The ladies of England have sent a big address *
About slavery, and all its horrors, accordin’,
They had better look at home, to their own white slaves,
That are starving on the English side of Jordan. (CHORUS.)

They have got a bearded lady down at Barnum’s show,
And lots of pictures outside, accordin’

She’s going to take her eyelashes for a pair of mustaches,
For to trabble on the other side of Jordan. (CHORUS.)

The Duchess of Sutherland, she keeps the Stafford House,
The place where the ‘ Black Swan ” is boardin’;
At a musical party, they ask’d for a song,
And she gave them—‘ On the other side of Jordan.” (CHo.)

Our great father, Washington, he was a mighty inan,
And all the Yankees do their fighting accordin’,
They will raise the flag of freedom wherever they can,
Till they plant it on the other side of Jordan. (CHORUS.)

MY GAL, HANNA.

BY LOU SPIECKER.
Atr—TI got a Donkey.

My gal’s name vas Hanna,
She blays de pianna,
I vas her duffer,
Und she vas my lover.
If it vas fine wetter,
We walks out togetter ;
Und you can bet that we put on some style
Of she got me mad,

Und give a bad look,
I can coax her along,

Mit my big pocketbook,

Cuorus—QOh, she is so schplendit,
When my pocketbook’s extendet,
Und she’s so contentet,
‘When my money I schpendet.
She is my leetle pet,
Und she will be mine yet,
Und of we got married,
Oh don’t dot been nice!

She vas overy rich,

Und owns a big house,
But she vas Irish,

Und dot makes nix ouse.
‘W’en we go oud,

We run up the street,
Till har’ly we both,

Can’t stand on our feet,
She den gets so hot,

Like a boiler of steam,
Und says, “ Shaky, o’ get

Me a plate of ice-cream. (CHoxvs.)

 

 

SO SO

~—

 

 

 
 

 

THE SINGER’S LIBRARY.

oo

 

On the Beach at Long Branch.

Copied by permission of Wm. A. Ponp & Co., 547 Broadway, New York,
owners of the copyright.
On the beach at Long Branch,
One fine summer’s day,
I’d_a novel reading,
To pass the time away,
And so interested
Was [ in the plot,
A gent stood there beside me,
Still I saw him not;
Till at last my eyelids
I did chance to raise,

I found him on me looking -
With enraptured gaze:
Bright blue eyes so sparkling,
Handsome Grecian nose,
Teeth of pearly whiteness,
Quite the pink of beaux.
CHoRUS—On the beach at Long Branch,
One fine summer’s day,
I met this handsome man,
Who stole my heart away;
Now I feel so blissful,
The happy moments glide,
The day is quickly coming,
When I shall be his bride.
)
/

As like one awaking,
From some happy dream,
We glances did exchange,
His eyes with love did beam;
And e’er much time was over,
We began to chat,
Hours passed away,
Still he beside me sat;
And wiih ways so winning,
He did love impart,
My spirits rose as high
As the early morning lark;
He told me that he loved me,
Said that all bis life,
Would be to him worthless,
Unless I’d be his wife. (CHorRUus.)

He said if I would marry,
All troubles we would drown,
And live in blissful ignorance,
Of all the cares of town;
With soft persuasive power,
He told me of his love,
Vowing to be true
By ail the stars above;
He asked me if I would marry,
Pressed me then to say,
Till to his wishes yielding,
I named the happy day;
He said his cup of bliss
Was filled to the brim,
He lived alone for me, :
And I alone for him. (CHoRus.)

 

When Brown Comes Rolling Home!

Copied by permission of E. H. Harprne, 229 Bowery, New York, owner
of the copyright. Music and words, 10 cents.

Tom Brown he is a married man, with children four or five,

All day he’s deep in business, and in life he seems to thrive;

But when his daily toil is done, all round the streets he’ll roam,

And sometime after midnight, you will find him rolling home!

CHORUS.
When Brown comes rolling home, oh then he’s in his glory;
He loves to sing a song, or tell a jolly story;
But there’s a scolding wife, that waits for him alone;
Oh, there’s sure to be an awful row, when Brown comes rolling
home.

7

He circumvents the excise law upon the Sabbath day,
And drinks his beer with right good cheer, no matter what they
say};
He loves a schooner, tall and deep, with no great wealth of foam;
A few of these are sure to please and send him rolling home!
(CHORUS. )

 

 

 

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(

i RIS

 

At night he wakes his neighbors up, when pounding at the door;

Sometimes it’s two, sometimes it’s three, and often after four;

And where he stays till such an hour, the fact is never known, {

He suys, ‘It’s business,” all the time, that sends him rolling
home! (C#oRus.)

He drinks a keg of lager beer, he quaffs the wine of Mumm;
And if he stands without support, he’s slightly out of plumb!
But Brown heeds.not his wavering steps, he cries out, ‘‘Come,
boys, come!
We'll take a drink, a social drink, then I'll go rolling home!”
(CHORUS. )

The Irish Emigrant’s Lament.

I’m sitting on the stile, Mary,
Where we sat side by side,
On a bright May morning long ago,
When first you were my bride.
The corn was springing fresh and green,
And the lark sung loud and high,
And the red was on thy lip, Mary,
And the love-light in thine eye.

The place is little changed, Mary,
The day is bright as then;
The lark’s loud song isin my ear,
And the corn is green again!
But I miss the soft clasp of your hand,
And your warm breath on my cheek,
And I still keep listening for the words
You never mofé may speak.

*Tis but a step down yonder lane,

And the little church stands near,
. The church where we were wed, Mary;

I see the spire from here.

But the graveyard lies between, Mary,
And my step might break your rest;

For I’ve laid you, darling, down to sleep,
With your baby on ycur breast.

I’m very lonely now, Mary,
For the poor make no new friends;
But oh, they love them better far,
The few our Father sends!
And you were all I had, Mary,
My blessing and my pride;
There’s nothing left to care for now,
Since my poor Mary died.

een ee ee eee ees 00 CO nn NN

Yours was the brave, good heart, Mary,
That still kept hoping on,
When the trust in God had left my soul,
And my arm’s young strength had gone;
There was comfort ever on your lip,
And the kind look on your brow;
I bless you for that same, Mary,
Though you can’t hear me now.

I thank you for that smile,-Mary,
When your heart was fit to break;
‘When the hunger pain was gnawing theré,.
And you hid it, for my sake;
I bless you for the pleasant word,
When your heart was sad and sore;
Oh, I’m thankful you are gone, Mary,
Where grief can’t reach you mure.

I’m bidding you a long farewell,
My Mary, kind and true,
But Pll not forget you, darling,
In the land I'm going to;
They say there’s b:ead and work for all,
And the sun shines always there,
But I'll not forget old Ireland,
Were it fifty times as fair.

And often in those grand old woods,
Yl sit and shut my eyes,

And my heart will travel back again
To the place where Mary lies.

_ And I'll think I see the little stile,

Where we sat side by side,

And the springing corn, and the bright May morn,
When first you were my bride.

 

 

 
 

 

 

 

12 THE, SINGER'S: “LIBRARY.

Sao

|
DAT GAY OLD NIGGER BALL Her heroes arise like a tempest of fire!
. With blood-reeking saber and loose-flowing rein,
Copied by permission of E. H. Harprna, 229 Bowery, New York, owner They ride as their battle-peal rings o’er the plain!
of the copyright. Music and words, 10 cents. For mighty’s the sword, ete.

At es ae a ee 3 Dear Erin, thou yet shalt in grandeur repose,
We dane’'d till de eon li - road A The pride of thy people, the dread of thy foes!
Way d in’ Evert e i pe sae And eyes that have wept by each time-honor’d tow’r,
aloes Ne Behold thee restor’d to past splendor and pow’r!
: Dere was Susie Simms, and George, and Pete, Yet cherish the harp and the saber that cast

And all de boys from Wooster street, : :
And Marfa Jane, she look'd so sweet, Pe meee eee. ara a ooh
At de gay old Nigger ball! a eee

Cuorus—Ohb, golly! what a high old time! ‘ ‘ ee j -
And such a noise wid all de boys, : Oh Would I Were a Bird.”

Oh, golly! what a high old time,
oN : Copied by permission of FrepErick Buums, 861 Broadway, New York,
At de gay old Nigger ball! - 7 Rraoe of the copyright. Music and words, 30 cents,
We heard all de music gay and sweet, Ob would I were a bird,
It put de shivers in our feet; ; That I might fly to thee,
ve ripaeen 2 we prea in joy complete, And breathe a loving word,
ill on de floor we 3 To one so dear to me.
Dere was ‘‘Poppy Horace b wid his ‘‘ lamb,” How happy would I be,
De people wonders who-she am; Caroling all the day,
She looked just like a big smoked ham, If only blest with thee,
At de gay old Nigger ball! (CHoruvs.) Beguiling time away.

De belle of de ball was Angeline, Then life would be a pleasure,
And I, of course, was “ bellgerine!” My mind would be at rest,
But she was so fat, and I so lean, If with my only treasure,
We could not dance at all! This heart were ever blest!
When de morning came, we all was tight ! Oh would I were a bird,
And some got sick, and some did fight: — That I might fly to thee,
Ob my! it was a rich old sight, And breathe a loving word,
At de gay old Nigger ball! (CHorus.) To one so dear to me,

3 Oh would that I could fly
' : This bright and glorious day,
. To give a sigh for sigh
Would I Were With Thee.. ‘tries aamina Se
Copied by permission of Ler & WatxKrr, Music Publishers, Philadelphiay My heart would beat with joy,
owners of the copyright. To see thee once again,
Would I were with thee every day and hour, Thy sorrows to allay,
Which now I pass so sadly far from thee; For cherish’d is thy name.
Would that my form possessed the magic power And when the moon is beaming
To follow where my heavy heart would be; O’er distant grove and lea,
Whate’er thy lot o’er land or sea, And joyous stars are gleaming,
Would I were with thee eternally. Then would I were with thee.
Oh would I were a bird,
That I might fly to thee,
And breathe a loving word,
To one so dear to me.

 

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——$04—

 

Would I were with thee when, the world forgetting,
Thy weary limbs upon the turf are thrown,
While bright and red vur evening’s sun is setting,
And all thy thoughts belong to heaven alone; ’
While happy dreams thy thoughts employ, eee ried cae eae
Would I were with thee in thy joy.

Would I were with thee when, no longer feigning LA-DE-DA-DE MICKS.
The hurried laugh that stifles back a sigh,
‘When thy young lip pours forth its sweet complaining, 4
And tears have quenched the light within thine eye, Here we are, two solid Micks,
When all seems dark and sad below, From far across the say;
Would I were with thee in thy woe! ve landed ~— ie Boston Town,
ear ago to-day ;
Would I were with thee when the day is breaking, Anda as eat Go we've traveled some
And when the moon has lit the lonely sea, And seen the ups and downs z
Or when in crowds some careless note awaking, Of this free land, and now, my boys
Speaks to thy heart in memory of me; Waimn sattied aieoiie t Bau: ?
In joy or pain, by sea or shore,
Would I were with thee evermore! CHoRUS—So, girls, give your attention,
And watch us do our tricks,
———— $0 For all the boys are jealous of

‘ The Ja-de-da-de Micks!
The Harp and Sword of Erin. Whin first we landed here, my boys,

Copied by permission of E. H. Harprna, 229 Bowery, New York, owner The “ blagguards ” used to shout:
of the copyright. Music and words, 10 cents. “Say! Cully, would yez stay the Micks,
In Erin’s wide halls when festivity reigns, Go wash yer flannel mout’;”
: Grief mingles with joy in her harp’s gentle strains, But of that gang we took no note,
4 But loud and majestic its swell when each chord We felt too mighty big;
f Triumphantly throbs to the crash of the sword! So kape yer eyes upon me, while
Her harp hath no rival, no foe can withstand We do an Irish jig. (CHORUS and Jia.)
The glittering blade in her conquering hand! ‘ ‘ ‘5 ;
For mighty’s the sword of brave Erin, eg le pe ee ees 5
eeetbi dnt Find Rie et? And to-night we’ve fens our very best
The harp and the sword, the harp and the sword,. To ye ez something new; y ’
The keen sword and sweet harp of Erin. We've towld ye all about ou isclves,

Thou soul-stirring harp, it is thine thro’ the years And shown ye how we feel,
E To move Erin's children to rapture or tears; So now we'll bid yez all “‘ good-night,”
= at 4 i Yet should War’s rude summons awaken thine ire, And do an Irish reel. (CHorus and REEL.)

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BY H. S. SARGENT.

 

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THE SINGER’S LIBRARY. 13

 

HE ISN’T A MARRYING MAN!

Copied by permission of E. H. Harprne, 229 Bowery, New York,
owner of the copyright. Music and words, 10 cents.

There’s a charming young fellow now roaming about,
Who loves all the girls, in his way;

They say he’s a ‘‘catch ” but of that there’s a doubt,
For a single young man he will stay!

He flirts, and sighs, and tells such lies,

Each one is sure she has a prize;

And he has such a naughty way

That one girl to another will say:

“‘ Beware! beware! beware!”

Cuorus—“ He isn’t a marrying man, my love,
He lives on a different plan, my love,
Keep out of his way, if you can, my love,
For he isn’t a marrying man!”

There’s old Mrs. Brown with a daughter so sweet,
She thought him an excellent beau,

She allowed Mary Jane his attentions to meet,
And told her to never say No!

But then there came a “‘ mutual friend,”

With tales that seemed to have no end;

These warning words she heard with pain:

“* Believe me what I say, Mary Jane,-—

Beware, beware, beware!” (CHORUS.)

He dresses with care, and he’s known ev’rywhere,
He goes with the rich and the poor;

Sometimes he will drive a poor girl to despair,
Till she thinks his affections are sure;

But by and by, away he’ll fly,

And there she’s left to droop and sigh,

With sympathetic voices near

To whisper these words in her ear:

‘Beware, beware, beware!” (CHORUS.)

DON’T GIVE UP THE SHIP!

Copied by permission of E. H. HArprne, 229 Bowery, New York, owner
of the copyright. Music and words, 1 cents.

Beside the porch the sailor sat,
The sunlight kiss’d his silv’ry hair;
The house-dog lay upon the mat,
And near him play’d a child so fair.
“Come here, my lad,’ the sailor cried,
While o’er his wrinkled face, there came
A look of scorn he could not hide,
And in his eye a sudden flame!
“ T hear,” he said, ‘‘ those words again!
I heard them long, long years ago!
*Twas ‘Don’t give up the ship, my men,
Strike not your colors to the foe!”

“ My boy, ’twas on the Chesapeake,
That, years ago, we sail’d away,
The haughty foreign foe to seek.
I never shall forget the day!

Our deck was clear’d, and piped all hands,
And down we swept before the gale;
The bravest there, ’tis Lawrence, stands,
He gives the order, ‘Crowd all sail?

We fought! our captain now I see!—
They bore him bleeding fast below,
And, ‘Don't give up the ship,’ cried he,
‘Strike not your colors to the foe!’ ”

The tear-drops dimm’d the sailor’s cheek;

“ Oh! love your country well,” he said,
“« My little child so fair and meek,

Since men like these have fought and bled.

They liv’d for her, for her they died,
My pretty one, so sweet and fair,

And always look with joy and pride,
Upon that starry banner there!

And should war come, so dark and sad,
When I to yonder port shall go,

Ah! don’t give up the ship, my lad,

II aaa

 

Strike not your colors to the foe!”

 

Sao

 

pan pn

 

 

 

UNHAPPY JEREMIAH.

I'd often heard of married life, of pleasures without equal, j
So I resolved to take a wife, but only mark the sequel;

But while my sorrows I relate, don’t try to raise my ire,

For oh, I’ve often cursed the fate of unhappy Jeremiah.

I courted Jane, the milliner, her parents were my betters,

But soon I had enough of her, when fast bound in wedlock fetters,
For we had a boarder of our own, a man she did admire,

And oft with him she’d be alone in spite of Jeremiah,

Remonstrating was all in vain, she’d always be my master,
And if I tried to stop her tongue, ’twas sure to run the faster.
One day she ask’d this man to tea, she told me to retire,

I left her sitting on his knee, what a treat for Jeremiah!

Now we had two children of our own, and oft I had to mind ’em,
And when she walk’d with other men, I had to walk behind ’em.
But what is more to my disgrace, oh, Lord, I feel on fire,

The children didn’t look in the face a bit like Jeremiah.

Oh, I’d been to work quite hard one day, when to my home re-
turning,
I found my wife had run away, and all my offers spurning.
Of reason I was near bereft, folks thought I, would expire,
For oh, she took the goods and left the brats for Jeremiah,

 

 

HAPPY HEZEKIAH.

Old Jeremiah you have heard so oft relate his troubles,
He told that married life was nothing but a bubble,
Now to confute this calumny, it is my heart’s desire,
So list you while I sing the luck of happy Hezekiah.

My wife she was no milliner, or any other trade, sir,

But was what I ne'er blush to own, a charming servant-maid, sir.
I courted her, ’twas in a house, where she used to build the fires,
And T’ve ne’er had cause to curse the day she first was Hezekiah’s,

I ne’er have cause for jealousy, I never take home codgers,

And what is more, I ne’er take in any single young men lodgers,
I always do go home to tea, then draw up to the fire,

My wife she reads, or mends the coat of happy Hezekiah.

My wife and I we ne’er fall out, we love each other dearly,

And of affections ’tis a fact, a pledge is sent us yearly.

And what adds more unto the joy, which a parent should inspire,
The children are the image of their father, Hezekiah.

We four dear children now have got, and do expect another,
The boys myself I do bring up, the girls I leave to their mother.
Thus with the children and my wife, my own, my loved Sophia,
So pleasantly doth pass the life of happy Hezekiah.

4

MINNIE ROOKE.

(
{
BY “KID KLYDE.”
‘Twas one day in summer
Within a shady glen,
Where, in the leafy bowers,
Chirps the robin and the wren—
*T was there I met my Minnie
Beside a tumbling brook, ;
But now I am forgotten by
That naughty Minnie Rooke!

CHorus—Minnfe Rooke, Minnie Rooke,
Oh, naughty Minnie Rooke,
W. hat made you go and leave me?
Oh, naughty Minnie Rooke!

Beneath the weeping willow,
She told one day to me
That she had another lover,
Whose bride she was to be.
And I never more could greet her,
Beside the tumbling brook,
Or meet her in the leafy glen—
That naughty Minnie Rooke (CHoRus.)

Maybe she thinks I’m lonely,
Within that shady glen;
Where, in the shady bowers,
Chirps the robin and the wren.
But another, fair and trusting
Now greets me by the brook,
And I think no more in sadness,
Oz that naughty Minnie Rooke!

 

—-—~

 

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eS eEer''’'VV[YIOYI'VYOEOTO'-  ' _'"™™O'VC!V'™_-w'@V-"*”—Or—™™”"”

THE SINGER’S LIBRARY.

 

 

Vee eum ee eee aaa eee eo eam

 

 

“AIN'T YOU AWFUL.”

Copied by permission of E. H. Harprne, 229 Bowery, New York, owner
of the copyright. Music and words, 10 cents.

I took my love one evening,

When the summer moon was beaming,

Thro’ silent arbors gleaming,
Where Cupid has control;

I wanted to tell her,

How dearly I adored her,

But oh! she would not listen,
Tho’ I tenderly implor’d her:

* Oh love, oh love, why don’t you heed me?

How can you treat me so?”

In vain, in vain, in vain,

She heeded not my pain,

She turn’d away her head,

And this was all she said:

CHorus—‘‘ Oh! ain’t you awful,

It’s wrong you know to love me so,
Yes, you are awful,

Your like I ne’er did see;
Oh! ain’t you awful,

It’s wrong you know to love me so,
Dear me, you’re horrid,

Why don’t you let me be?”

To make my feelings clearer
I advane’d a little nearer,
And said I'd like to hear her,
Say yes and ease my mind.
She fumbled and mumbled,
' And lavghed at my atlention;”
She said mamma would scold her,
If such things she dared te mention.
“ Come, love,” I cried, *‘ we'll run away
And leave your mamma behind.”
“Oh no, oh no,” she said,
“ Don’t ask me now to wed:
What would the people say,
If we should run away?” (CHORUS.)

She talk’d on useless matters,
"Till my patience was in tatters,
Just as a woman clatters,

When silent she should be.
I kegg’d her to listen,

And drew her close beside me;
But she began to fidget,

And her roguish eyes defied me,
And soon she told me with a smile
That she did not care for me;

My love was all in vain,
She heeded not my pain,
She turn’d away her head,

And this was all she said: (CHoRvs.)

tt

Our Captain’s Last Words.

Copied by permission of Roor & Capy, Music Publishers, Chicago, owners
of the copyright.

Where the foremost flag was flying,
Pierced by many a shot and shell,

Where the bravest men were dying,
There our gallant Captain fell;

* Boys, you follow now another,

Follow till the foe shall yield;”

Then he whispered: ‘‘ Tell my mother,
Stephen died upon the field;

Mother! mother!
Stephen died upon the field.”

Through the battle smoke they bore him,
But his words were growing wild;
Heeding not the scenes before him,
Stephen was once more a child;
** Ab, she comes! there is no other
Speaks my name with such a joy;
Press me to your bosom, mother,
Call me still your darling boy;
Mother! mother!
Call me still your darling boy.” =,

 

 

ae

Fo

 

Men who were not used to weeping
Turned aside to hide a tear,

When they saw the pallor creeping,
That assured them death was near;

Kindly as he were a brother,
Strangers caught his parting breath,

Laden with the murmur, ‘‘ Mother!”
Last upon his lips in death;

“ Mother! mother!”

Last upon his lips in death,

—— 0

My Little Wife Ashore.

Copied by permission of S. BrArNaRD’s Sons, Cleveland, owners of the
copyright. Music and words, 30 cents.
I’ve sail’d in weather foul and fair, my lads,
With mates, with mates both jolly and grim,
I’ve stood my watch aloft,
ve watch’d below,
In a good ship stout and trim, my lads,
A good ship stout and trim.
But this Pll say, tho’ many a day
I’ve sail’d the wide seas o’er,
That near or far I ne’er forget
My little wife ashore, lads!

CuHorvus—Then merrily sing, yo ho, boys!
Cheerily sing, yo ho, lads!
Sail ho! lads!
The waters o’er.
Then pull away, yo ho, lads!
Merrily sing as we go, lads!
A song for her, lads,
My little wife ashore.

And when I see the glim’ring light, my lads,
That shines, that shines upon the shore,
I know she waits for me,
What joy to see!
Oh, tis joy to see the light, my lads,
And greet my home once more!
She thinks of me as many a storm
Breaks over sea and land!
To Him above she breathes a pray’r,

Out on the wave-washed sand, lads! (CHORUS,)

 

———+e

Brother’s Fainting at the Door.

Copied by permission of Firtu, Son & Co., 547 Broadway, New York,
owners of the copyright.
Yonder comes a weary soldier,
With falt’ring steps across the moor;
Mem ries of the past steal o’er me,
He totters to the cottage door;
Look, my heart can not deceive me,
*Tis one we deemed on earth no more;
Call mother, hasten, do not tarry,
For brother’s fainting at the door.

Cuorvus—Kindly greet the weary soldier,
Words of comfort may restore;
You may have an absent brother,

Fainting at a stranger’s door.

“Tell us, brother, of the battle,
Why you were numbered with the slain?
We, who thought you lost forever,
Now clasp you to our arms again;
Oh, may others share the blessing,
Which Heaven kindly keeps in store, :
May they meet their absent loved ones,

Ay, e’en though fainting at the door.” (CHo.)

‘* 1 was wounded and a pris’ner,

Our ranks were broken, forced to fly;

Thrown within a gloomy dungeon,
Away from friends alone to die.

Still the hope was strong within me,
A cherished hope that would restore;

I have lived, by Heaven's blessing,
To meet my loved ones at the door.” (CHORUS.)

‘

 

 

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—

 

 
 

 

 

 

 

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STEMS OS TE ia PLS TS LT IT ae AS SPS BAG EATS AS TIE BILLS SS GE ESET SE SE Do LE Cn A
~~.

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THE SINGER’S LIBRARY.

S$ —— S$  — ——  ——— —E—E—EEEOEOEOOeOeeEEmD™OD@E™—_—__— OOOO" ee

15

 

 

 

Fees ees

BOBBIN AROUND.

Copied by permission of Ontver Drrson & Co., 451 Washington street»

oston, owners of the copyright.

Tn August last, on one fine day,
A-bobbing around, around, around,
When Josh and I went to make hay,
We went a-bobbing around.
Says Josh to me, “ Let’s take a walk,
A-bobbing around, around, around,
Then we can have a private talk,
As we go bobbing around.”

We walk’d along to the mountain ridge,
A-bobbing around, around, around,

Till we got near Squire Slipshod’s bridge,
As we went bobbing around.

Then Josh and I went on a spree,
A-bobbing around, around, around,

And I kiss’d Josb, and Josh kiss’d me,
As we went bobbing around.

Then Josh’s pluck no longer tarried,
A-bobbiug around, around, around,

Says he, ‘‘ Dear Patience, let’s get married,
Then. we’ll go bobbing around.”

Now I knew he loved another gal,
A-bobbing around, around, around,

They call’d her crook’d-shin, curly-tooth’d Sal,
When he went bobbing around.

S> after we got into church,
A-bobbing around, around, around,

I cut and left Josh in the lurch,
Then he went bobbing around.

Now all you chaps wot’s got a gal,
A-bobbing around, around, around,

Do think of crook’d-shin, curly-tooth’d Sal,
When you go bobbing around.

+

ONE HUNDRED YEARS!

Copied by permission of E. H. Harprna, 229 Bowery, New York, owner

of the copyright. Music and words, 10 cents.

One hundred years, one hundred years!
Since Freedom first did dawn,

And many a thought comes over me,
As I hail each coming morn;

So Pll make bold and now unfold
The glories of that day,

~ The great things done, and battle won,

Since Freedom gained the sway.

CHorus—One hundred years, since the days of Seventy-six,

One huudred years since we did the Foemen fix!
Then praise with joyful glee, the banner of the free,
And the men of Seventy-six, .

T’ll tell you first of Bunker Hill,
There Warren met the foe,
Who wished to tax the people,
That the tea did overthrow!
He nobly tried and bravely died,
He well the battle won,
And Washington the finish gave
To what he left undone. (CHOoRUS.)

Then Jackson with his cotton bales,
He made the en’my fly!
Our banner still triumphant
The invader did defy;
And Lawrence fought and the lesson taught:
Not to give up the ship!
And Winfield Scott at Lundy’s Lane,
Did well the foeman whip.

Our Morse he made the Telegraph,
Twas laid by Cyrus Field;

Ben Franklin chain’d the Lightning;
We the power of Steam revealed;

Peabody gave what he did save,
And Farragut nail’d fast

The glorious Flag we love so well,

Unto his vessel’s mast. (Caorus.)

/

 

 

 

— Tee eee eee eS

THOSE DARK EYES.

Copied by permission of A. E. Buackmar, owner of the copyright.

Music and words, 30 cents.

When dawn awakes the Hastern skies,
And wooing zephyrs skim the sea,
I crave a glance from those dark eyes,
That should have ope’d with love for me.
But chilling clouds obscure the rays,
No smiling dawn awakes for me,
To cheer me on life’s devious ways,
And light my pathway o’er the sea;
To cheer me on life’s devious ways,
And light my pathway o’er the sea.

When sunset gilds the Western skies,
And shadows deepen on the lea,
In dreams I sigh for these dark eyes
That should have sunk to rest with me.
But they are vail’d, my light is gone,
And somber night-shades gather fast,
While o’er the vale I’m borne along,
An autumn leaf upon the blast;
While o’er the vale I’m borne along,
An autumn leaf upon the blast.

When stars from out the midnight skies,
Ilume with love the slumb’ring sea,
I sigh in vain for those dark eyes,
That should have lit the night for me;
But they have shone on me their last,
Life’s troubled wave to gild no more,
Which now in darkness rushes fast,
To break upon an unknown shore;
Which now in darkness rushes fast,
To break upon an unknown shore.

 

o> +—___-

ISN'T HE A DARLING?

Copied by permission of E. H. Hanprne, 229 Bowery, New York, owner

of the copyright. Music and words, 40 cents.

I have a beau, a charming beau,
Of him I’m very proud;

When on the promenade we go,
We meet a wond’ring crowd;

He’s quite a swell in all his ways,
And speaks with voice divine!

I can’t find words enough to praise
This charming beau of mine.

Crorus—Oh, isn’t he a darling,

With his graceful way, and his eye so gay?
Yes, he’s a little darling,

To me he is divine!
Oh, isn’t he a darling,

With his graceful way, and his eye so gay?
He loves me too, with heart so true:

This charming beau of mine.

He dresses in the latest style,
And wears a diamond ring;
And when he’s out in company,
How sweetly he can sing;
His business, well, upon my werd,
It must be something fine!
For he has always lots of cash,
This charming beau of mine. (CHORUS.)

His collar reaches to his ears;
And such a sweet mustache!
They say he dyes it ev'ry week,
That he may cut a dash;
He goes to Gilmore’s for a stroll,
And says it’s (ah!) dooced fine,
While drinking lager beer with me—
This charming beau of mine. (CHORUS,)

He loves the op’ra and the ball,
And there we often go,
A banquet at the nidnight hour—
Of course I ne’er say no; ‘
He introduces all his friends,
Whose smiles around me shine;
They say he is a lucky boy—
This charming beau of mine. (CHORUS.)

 

~~

ng ee a eee a eee

 

 

 
 

 

Y | Beadle’s Half-Dime Singer's Library.

FIFTY OR MORE SONGS IN EACH ISSUE.

Contents of No. 1.

Whoa, Emma (new version),
Ten minutes too late,

Miss Gruber’s boarding pone
See that my grave’s kept
The en in the moon

lov
ee pwikt two stools aman goes to
the ground,”
Let the eae alone,
They all d
My coe ar rose,
Rose of Killarney,
Johnny, you’ve been a bad boy,
Bose eee (original verkiont
Angel Gabrie :
Come, ca awa’ wi’ me,
ergs road engineer’s song,
oO

green
$3 looki ng,

* Clicquot,”

Landlord, ‘All your flowing bewl,
good time coming,

The ni; ——" trill,

Co-ca-che-lui

oop ales

Bot
Under he willow she’s sleep-

ng,

They borrow, but never return,
Sweet by an Dy
Land of my birth.
men, can’t I have a beau?
Roll out! heave dat cotton,
The butcher boy,

for papa,

PPpyy
del

The vacant chair,
Tom Bowling,
I muse on thee
Pull down your vest,
Rhine vine Sharley,
‘Who will care for mother now?
Heather Jock,
“Crooked whisky!”
French and English,
Juliana Jones,
Barbara Allan,
Son of a gambolier,
The midnight bugle,
Sing, birdie, sing,
The tempest,
ce me when breakfast 1s

eady,
sim, the carter lad.
The drunkard’s raggit wean!
Twinkling stars,
The Marseilles h:

The old or ish aa
Lord Lovel,
Billy Larkin,

Contents of No, 2.

Captain Cuff,

You nero me eee

When the pigs begin to fly,
My rte is so vawfully thin,
Babylon is wit en,

The fields of home,

0e,
Saat by one they crossed the
ee *threh of the Cameron
John Chinaman,

Bitti

r,
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,
ath Denes light guard,

e
Nocdn Si the pride of Kildare,
Sweet vision of childhood,
Home again,
Shall we ever meet again?
Hoke get more like your dad every

ay,
The crac!
Take it,
Dandy barber Joe,
Captain Spike of the musketeers
Limburger sheese,
Uncle Tom’s lament,
Up and be doing,
The heathen Chinee
Within a mile of Edinboro’,
pate eae Lullaby,
The co:
The soldier ig tear,
Pm a isince my mother

Pull down the blind,
anes were all the world without

man’s chant,

The: king's FASE ay

Captain Jinks,

The O’s and the Me’s,

A motto for every man,

Her prighs smile haunts me

still,
I'm a b’hoy,
Little waxed mustache,
The steam arm,
Single blessedness a fib,
ca dat ticklin’ me,

ee solitalre,

May t best man wi
Beside the sweet Shannon.

Contents of No 3.

The Gainsboro’ hat,

Hildebrandt Montrose,

Mary McGinnis.

I do feel so awfully loose,

Is there any such place?

Cackle, cackle, cackle,

Bold Robin Hood,

He isn’t as rich as he used to be,

Bryan O’Lynn,

Pe was augh a nice young man,
man n

Billy Seine, the rover,

Sing! sing! sin;

Terrance item,

The fireman’s boy,

The summer of love,

The runaway mare,

Peter Gray,

Mary of the wild moor,

Song of the locomotive,

Coaxing with a kiss,

Lager beer song,

Our army and navy of blue,

The roast beet of old nese

Massa’s in de cold ground,

The timid awkward squad!

Nancy Lee,
Pink ‘dominoes,
The Pears ence

{t’s nice,
mine host!

Mine host!
hither!

Aes Viper for you at, ete.
My um

God bless thelittle church, ete.

Only a flower pone!

The low back’d ce:

It’s naughty, put tts 's nice,

I love my native land,

ane perpppels are comin’, ,

The tos dancer boy,
Mary Avourneen,
The fighting om
Red, white and blue,
én the flowers fall asleep,

come

Wake! Dinah, Saar:
The brave old oa
Yankee ship, us a Yankee crew,
Camptown races,
Why have my loved ones gone?
A national sane)
The blarne;
Abe says may,

Bh of Shillelat,
Ss) we snow each other there?
Good-by,
Old fol Aas bor
Father will settle’ the bill,
Whisper it softly,
Hail to the chief,
Little maid of Arcad
Juanita,
Never despair.

Contents of No. 4.

Johnny Morgan.
“Fifth avenue George, 2
The king of trumps,
Broadway promenade,
Little green vail,
you pretty blue-eyed witch,
Spar ling moselle,
Looking back,
The ocean burial,
The Brooklyn fire,
After toiling cometh rest,
The miller of the dee,
A starry night for a ramble,
Pop goes ut weasel,
“Our
The minute gun at sea
Down the shadowed lane she goes
Lather and shave,
Good-by, Charlie,
good: by till I see bal again,
The other side of Jordan,
Mollie Brady,
Par excellence,
| Few ere
| Row,
In ner & ‘ittle bed ” we laid her,
Iam waiting, Essie dear,
‘You never miss the water, etc.
“T cannot sing the old songs,”
Whisperings of love,
The old oaken bucket which
bung in the well,
Bashful young man,
“Put the brake on when, etc.
The rollicking old man,
There are kisses waiting for me,
Blete ewe girl,
eighing with m
The mon me of ol id,
Home, sweet home,
Adventures of Robinson Crusoe,

ee,

oore,
Auld Robin Gray,

Old Rosin the Beau,

The fine old Englsh gentleman,
The fine old Dutch gentleman,
The fine old Irish gentleman,
The spider and the fly,

| ce aoe violets,

| Faded flowers,
Spring, gon gentle ‘spring,
Over
“There’s a iadhk succeeds like |
success,
The mocking bird,
The stylish macvanit girl,
Star-spangled banner,
Nelly was a lady,
The Irish regiment
Ridin’ in a railroad keer,

Darling old stick,
| Rob Ridley,”

Contents of No. 5.
I'll strike you with a feather,
Hauntin
The star that leads to thee,

 

Flow gently, sweet Afton,
The household clock,
Come to the ole gum tree,
Sleeping, I dreamed, love
“Our laddie’s dead, Jem,’
Oh! I shall call dada,
Buttercups and daisies,
Fair eens le,
Annie Laur
Call her pack and kiss her,
Tilda Horn,
"Twas like a spirit’s sigh,
Bessy was a sailor’s b de,
My heart’s in the Highlands,
Jocky hat and feather,
Say, bird of summer,
Jeannette and Jeannot,
"Twas rank and fame,
The answer.
A sailor’s life for me,
oe
e way to aDPY,
Uncle Ned,
The pirate} 8 serenade,
ae of srncet
ver moonlight sea,
Isle of beaw pte
“Sparklin; ‘per Heidesick,”
No one to love,
He led her to the altar,
oe where the moonbeams
ger,
The belle of the ball,
The sweet, sunny smile, etc.
Ship a-hoy’ rt
My dear old mother,
Be sure you're right, etc.

y Martin,
Sword of Bunker Hill,
Kate Kearney
Answer to Kate Kearney,
The sea king’s burial,
news from home,
Since Terry first joined the gang,
A bit of my min:
I never re use,
The old man’s got 9 FO.
Lord Bateman a fair Sophia,
To the love of my youth, etc.
Eulalie,
Don’t marry your mother-in-law,
True blue, and seventy-two,
A thousand a Font
Twenty years agi
Rather too “ Tease ” for me
he kind to thy father and mother,
amie!
Gentle Annie
“Strike the tou while it’s hot.”

Contents of No. 6.

George, the charmer
Wait till the oonlignt falls on
the water,
“John Barleycorn is a hero bold,
Keep on kissing me,
I want to go home to mamma!
Kicking a man when he’s down,
| Nelly Gray,
Silver stars are score gleaming,
| Mulcahy’ 's home again,
| Miss Malony’s ball,

 

“A lock of my mother’s hair, no , 7

| Alas! my love’s away,
Over the mountain,
| “The scamp,”
Answer to a thousand a year,

Ben Bo
Poor old’ slave,
| Roger O'Malley,
| By the sad sea-waves,
| Song of Blanche Alpen,
| Away Sor East,
| Sweet long ago,
lacksmith,

The nett
| Lena

| A life on tne ocean wave,
Rock me to sleep, mother,

Sold by all newsdealers, five cents each; or sent, post-paid, to any address, on receipt of six cents per copy.

BEADLE & ADAMS, Publishers, 98 William Street, N. Y

 

Clear the aot
Brown eyes has that little maid-

en
Dear mother, I’ve come home to

Lanigan’s ball,
Don’t you dare to kiss me, Joe!
Oh, merry hours!
I wish I was in Dixie’s land,
I’ve only been down ee the club,}
se es girl that’s out,

ini did, Katy didn't,

an’s wake,

uh Dean nintiented love,”
I really don’t think I shall marry,
Poor ney
The goat,
Base-ball
Beautiful dreamer,
My love is still the’ same,

ee and easy,”
Merry little birds are we,
Boy with the auburn hair,
Evangeline
Vegetable Joe,
Her pretty, smiling face,
Never venture, never win!
Ada, with the golden hair,
The dashing gay brunette,
Victorine,
Castles in the air,
The female smuggler,
Kind and true.

Contents of No. 7,

The belle of Rockaway,

Bathing in the surf,

Annie of the vale,

Awfully awful,

Spooning on the sands,

Pretty as a picture,

Mother, dear, I’m thinking of you

That’s the style for me, boys,

Little diamond dewdrop,

‘affy was a Welshman,

Take this letter to my mother,

Like a Turk!

Never push a man because he’s
going down the hill,

America,

American vocal melody,

The blonde that never dyes,

areas on the boots,

a pretty little blonde,
e big sunflower,

Dat’s der kind of mans I am,

Uncle Sam’s farm,

Remember you have children ete

He knows how to do it,

Winter—sleigh-bell song,

What is home without a mother,

Dreaming and drifting,

Bear it like a man,

The wee rams,

Grease the griddle, birdie, ete.
“Pulling ard against the
stream,”

The Mulli

Pretty lit et enrate,

I know you’ll be true to me, etc.,.

The blue and the gray,

x Hore the winning hand,

our coat up to your uncle,

Tho « old folks are gone:

George! beautiful George!

“Onl I'm going home,

The little ones at home,

Wait for the wagon,

The belle of Pleasure bay,

Every inch a sailor,

Would you if you were me?

8 ane,

Speak to me.

8 tok to out ‘our Ley and be true,

tae che ‘ee, rm

’1i remember you in my prayers,

Marriage bells, :

Mr. Fin aren

Jeremiah, blow the fire,

Come, maiden, with me,

 

 

 

BEADLE’S HALFP-DIME LIBRARY.

1 Dzapwoop Dick, THE ees OF THE eee
By Edward L. as oe

2 YELLOWSTONE Jack. B:

8 Kansas Kine. By Bu 8

4 a Wip-Horse Hunters. By Capt. Mayne

id i
5 Vaaasond Jos. By Oll Coom:

1
6 Brut Brwpon, Trapper. By Edward 8. Ellis,

q ea YanxeE, By Col. Prentiss In-

ETH Jones. By Edward S. Ellis ...........
§ Tue ADVENTURES OF BARON MUNCHAUSEN, .
10 Nat Topp, By Edward S. Ellis.
11 THe Two a ae? By Albert W. Aiken,
12 GuLiiver’s TRAVE
By 3y Oll Comes. .

13 Tur Dump Spy. 7
+3 ALADDIN, ...

Tur Sea Cat, ‘By Capt: Frederick Whittaker.
16 Rorinson Cruson..
17 7 Roy, ae Bor eee ‘By Col.
18 Senay THE Bixon "

19 Tue PHantom Spy. By Buffalo Sis

20 Toe Dovuste Daaeers, - Edward L

 

21 Frontier AneeL. By Edward §. Ellis.......

22 Tae Sea Serpent. Ag Juan Lewis.....

23 Nick o’ Tae NieHr. v T. C. Harbaugh .

24 Diamonp Dirk. By Col. Prentiss Ingraham, .

25 Tae Boy Caprain. By Roger Starbuck .

26 CLoven Hoor, tHE Demon. By Edward L.
Wheeler .. .

27 ANTELOPE ABE, ‘Tar Boy QuipE. “By ‘oul
Coomes.....

28 BurraLo Brn, THe PRINCE oF THE PISTOL.
By Edward L. Wheeler... ......

29 bin Dums Pace, By Capt. Frederick Whit-

er.
30 Spree ‘Rap Rockwoop. ‘By ‘Harry St.
eorge ..

31 aed wii, By Oll Coomes. .

82 Bos Woo r, aa Borper Rurvian. By Ead-
wi eeler .

33 hs 4 (oma BLOODHOUND. | “By ‘Samuel ‘W.

84 ee Sot. B os t. J. F.C. Adams...)
35 Win Ivan, THE LAUDE Duvau. No.4 of

the Deadwood Di Dick Romances. By eee
36 Tue Boy Cuown. “ By Frank §. Finn..

<eneves

seses

Se 8 ES BERS

 

87 Tue Hippen Lover. By T. C. Harbaugh..
88 Nep Wytpr. By Texas Jack.
89 DraTu-Face, THE Derective, By Raward _

By ‘John J. Marshall. ; ®
OE Gene 55s aie each Be,
INER, By Ed. L. Wheeler .
43 fon Siieana THE Pony Rw
Cant. Frederick Whittaker... 0... ......
RarTiine Ruse. By Harry St. George
45 Otp AvaLANcHE, THE GREAT ANNIHILATOR.
By Edward L. Wheeler. coe
46 Guass-Eyz, THE Great SHOT oF THE West.
By Capt. J. F. ©. Adams. ..
47 NiauTineatr Nar. By T. O, Harbaugh
48 Buack Joun, TH# Koap-AGrnt. By Jos. E.
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