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BEADLE’S DIM
POPULAR HAND-BOOKS!
DIME BOOK OF ETIQUETTE:

For Ladies and Gentlemen: being a Guide to True Gentility and Good-Breeding,
and a Complete Directory to the Usages and Observances of Society. Including
Entrance into Society; on Dress and Ornaments: on Visits, Introductions, ete. ;
Kyening Parties, Dances, etc. ; Games of Cards, Chess, etc.; on Conversation; on
Letter and Note Writing; How to Give and Receive Invitations; on Entertain-
ments; on Personal Cleanliness, etc.

DIME LETTER-WRITER,

And Practical Guide to Composition. Embracing Forms, Models, Suggestions and
Rules for the use of all classes, on all occasions; also a List of Improper Words
and Expressions, together with their Correct Forms. And also a Complete Dic-
tionary of Mottoes, Phrases, Idioms, etc. By Louis Lraranp, M. D

DIME BOOK OF VERSES:

Comprising Verses for Albums; Mottoes and Couplets; St. Valentine Verses;
Bridal and Marriage Verses; Verses on Births and Infancy; Verses to send with |
Flowers; Verses of Love and Affection; Holiday Verses; Birthday Verses; Epi
taphs and Mourning Verses; the Lover’s Casket. ,

DIME COOK BOOK;

Or, the Housewife’s Pocket Companion. Embodying what is most Economic,
most Practical, most Excellent. By Mrs, M. V. Victor.

 

DIME RECIPE BOOK:

A Companion to the Dime Cook Book. A ee for the Parlor, Nursery, Sick

Room, Toilet, Kitchen, Larder, etc. By Mrs. M. V.

DIME HOUSEWIFE’S MANUAL;

Or, How to Keep House and Order a Home; How to Dye, Cleanse and Renovate ;
How to Cut, Fit and Make Garments; How to Cultivate Plants and Flowers; How
» to Care for Birds and Household Pets, etc., etc. A Companion to the Dime Cook
and Recipe Books. 100 pp. 12mo, By Mrs, M. Y. Victor.

DIME FAMILY PHYSICIAN,

And Manual for the Sick Room. With Family Diseases and their Treatment, Hints
on Nursing and Rearing, Children’s Complaints, Physiological Facts, Rules of
Health, Recipes for Preparing well-known Curatives, etc., etc., based upon the au-
thority of Drs. WARREN, DoNNA, PARKER, and others. Expressly prepared for the

Dime series.
“DIME DRESSMAKER,

And Milliner’s Guide. A Complete Manual of the art of Cutting, Fitting, and
Making Up the Female Wardrobe, with full directions for Choice of ‘Material, Dic-
tionary of Technical Terms, etc., etc. By Mapame Putian.

(e" The above books for sale by all Newsdealers; or sent, PosT-ParD, to any ad-
dress, on receipt of price—TEN Cents Eacu, Address,

BEADLE AND COMPANY, Publishers, 98 William Street, N.Y.

IcTOR,

 
 

 

oN OF 1 hs

& COLLECTION OF NEW AND POFULAR

COMIC AND SENTIMENTAL

NEW YORK:

BEADLE AND ADAMS, PUBLISHERS,
93 WILLIAM STREET.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 
 

 

  

 

   

PUBLISHERS’ NOTE.

The music, with piano forte arrangement, of any of the
songs in Brapix’s Dime Sona Booxs, can be obtained of, or
ordered throug’, any regular News or Periodical dealer ; or,
by forwarding twenty-five cents, direct to the publishers,
whose names and address are attached to many of the pieces,
the music will be sent by mail, post-paid.

Beapit AND Company.

 

Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1863,
By BEADLE AND COMPANY,
In the Clerk’s Office of the District Court of the United States
for the Southern District of New York.

 

(8. B. 11.)

 

 

 

 

 

 
n
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CONTENTS.

Old Jessy, -

On the Field of Battle, Mother, -
On the Shores of Tennessee, -
Our Country and Flag, - -
Shall we Meet Again? - -

‘ The Bachelor’s Lament, —-
The Day our Mother Died,
The Nation shall not Die, -
The Regular Cure, - — -

The Song of the Guard,
The Rhinoceros - -

 
 

 

 

BEADLE’S

DIME SONG BOOK No. 11.

Grandmother told me so.

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

The declamation has been spoken,
For grandmother told me so;
The darkeys have got their fetlocks broken,
For grandmother told me so.
Oh, won’t they have lots of old iron on hand ?
And when the news travels, oh, won’t it be grand ?
*T will sweep like a sugar-cane over the land,
For grandmother told me so,
CHORUS.
American eagle, hysterical bird,
Oh, flap your wings and crow;
The slaves are embellished ; yes, that’s the word,
For grandmother told me so.

There’s curious times in that ar’ section,
For grandmother told me so;
They think they will have a resurrection,
For grandmother told me so,
The penholders raving like persons insane,
The darkeys in exodus, raising cane,
And singing like murtingales after a rain,
For grandmother told me so, (CHorts.)

 

 

 

 

 

 
 

 

 

 

 

  

But President Abe forgot Kentucky,
For grandmother told me so ;

| And Tennessee, too, and that’s unlucky,
For grandmother tuld me so.

Malicious champagnes will be opened in vain,

Until we shall break the last ox-yoke and chain,

Till through the benighted States freedom shall reign,
For grandmother told me so, (Crorts.)

:
Every Household has its Angel.
Copied by permission of Lez & WALKER, Music Publishers,
(22 Chestnut st., Philadelphia, owners of the copyright.
Every household has its angel,
In the sweet and gentle wife,
Shedding dews of love around her,
Beaming like a star of life.
Patient in her hearts distresses,
Loving in affliction’s hours,
Constant in her gorest trials,
Blessing home with love’s fair flowers.
Cuorus—Every household has its angel,
In the sweet and gentle wife,
Shedding dews of love around her,
Beaming like a star of life.

Every household has its angel,
Hovering watchful round the hearth,
Guiding through the parent's teaching,
Smiling mid the children’s mirth.
Whispering to the baby sleeping,
Singing with the cradle song,
Near misfortune kindly keeping,
Chiding when regret is wrong.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 
 

 

 

 

 

 

 

And every door is open
To the weary stranger still;

Pat would give his last potato, yes,
And give it with a will;

Nor whisky, whieh he prizes so,
In any case deny ;

Then wherefore do they always write,
“No Irish need apply.”

Now what bave they against us?
Su’e the world knows Paddy’s brave,
For he’s helped to fight their battles,
Both on land and on the wave;
At the storming of Sebastopol,
And beneath an Indian sky,
Pat raised his head, for their General said,
“ All Irish might apply.”
Do you mind Lieutenant Massy,
When he raised the battle-ery ?
Then are they not ashamed to write,
“No Irish need apply ?”

Then they can’t deny us genius,
With “ Sheridan,” “ Tom Moore,”
The late lamented “ Catherine Hays,”
And Sam Lover to the Fore ;
Altho’ they may laugh at our “Bulls,”
They cannot but admit
That Pat is always sinsible,
And has a ready wit
And if they ask for beauty,
What can beat their nice black eye ?
Then is it not a shame to write,
“No Irish need apply ?”

 

 

 

 

 
 

 

10

 

   

 

Och! the French must loudly crow,
To find we’re slighted thus,

For they can ne'er forget the blow
That was dealt by one of us ;

If the Iron Duke of Wellington
Had never drawn his sword,

Faith, they might have “ Napoleon Sauce
With their beef, upon my word,

They think now of their hero, dead;
His name will never die ;

Where will they get another such,
If “No Irish need apply.”

Ah! but now I’m in the land
Of the “ Glorious ” and “ Free,”
And proud I am to own it,
A country dear to me;
I can see by your kind faces,
That you will not deny
A place in your hearts for Kathleen,
And all Irish may apply.
Then long may the Union flourish,
And ever may it be
A pattern to the world,
And the “ Home of Liberty !”

 

Dear Mother, call me Home.

205 Baltimore st., Baltimore, owner of the copyright.
I walk abroad throughout the earth,
A lone and wretched thing,
The blessed fount of sympathy
Within me will not spring ;

   

”

Copied by permission of Henry McCarrrey, Mnsic Publisher,

 

 

 

 

 

 

 
 

 

 

 

11

 

 

I languish for my childhood'’s home,
For boyhood’s sumny track,
I find this earth a wilderness,
Then, mother, call me back ;
And nevermore my feet shall)stray,
In foreign lands to roam;
I shall but liye, my mother dear,
For thee, and love, and home.

h, often have I sadly gazed
Upon the azure sky,
And fancied that in some bright star
I saw thy gentle eye;
And in my bosom’s inmost. depths,
Soft whisperings would come,
To tell me of the happiness
I once enjoyed at home ;
Then from the dial of my scul,
The shadow, oh, cast back ;
Receive me to thy arms.again,
Dear mother, call me back.

I’ve mingled in the world’s gay scenes,
I’ve earned myself a name,

I’ve entered in the chase, and won
That fleeting bauble. fame ;

But now, dear mother, like the dove,
That sought the holy ark,

I bring to thee my last resort,
My time-worn, weary bark ;

It tempts no more the waves of life,
A wreck upon its foam,

Shattered and torn, it turtis to thee,
Then, mother, call me home.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 
 

 

   

12

 

 

   

 

The Regular Cure,

Copied by permission of Lez & WaLkER, Music Publishers,
722 Chestnut st., Philadelphia, owners of the copyright.

Oh dear! Oh my ! how queer I feel,
I don’t know what to do;

For I’m in love with Polly Peel,
Wot lives at number two.

My heart goes bump, my legs go jump;
I'm lost, I know, for sure ;

I shall dance till worn down to a stump,
Oh! wont that be a cure?

Cxorvus—A cure, a cure, oh! yes, a cure,
*T will be indeed a cure ;

With my hoppity kickity, high and low,

Iam a reg’lar cure.

I dance around her day and night,
And find I can not cease ;
But she’s got another chap all right,
And he’s in the police.
His dress is blue, his letter’s Q,
He treats me like a boor;
His number it is onety-one,
And he says that I’m a cure!
Cuorus—A cure, a cure, oh! yes, a cure,
He says that I’m a cure; ete,

I went Miss Polly Peel to meet,

But the man who'd brought the coal,
Left wide the opening in the street,
So I tumbled down the hole ;

 

 

 

 

 

 
 

 

o 13

 

 

 

As black as soot, poor me they put
In water most impure,
By way of giving me a wash—
Now wasn’t that a cure?
Criais—A cure, a cure, oh! yes, a cure,
Oh! wasn’t that a cure ? ete.

One day she gave me sich a smile,
Oh! how my heart did beat ;
When, after walking near a mile,

She asked me to stand treat.
She broke a glass, and then did say,
“This young man, so demure,
The damage I have done, will pay ;”
Oh! wasn’t that a cure ?
Cnorus—A cure, a cure, oh! yes, a cure
Oh! wasn’t that a eure? etc,

I told them I had got no cash ;
Said they, that’s rather odd ;

But as the glass has gone to smash,
Why you must go to quod!

In vain I said to onety-one
That I was awful poor;

So I tipp’d for what I hadn’t done—
My eye! that was a cure.

Cuorus.—A cure, a cure, oh! yes, a cure,
Oh, yes, it was a cure.

You'll ask me why it is my plan
To dance and not be stopping ;

I was bit by a mad fiddler man,
That’s why I keeps on hopping.

x

 

 

 

SK ee ee r

 

 

 
 

 

   

 

14 °

 

But I have got no more to say
That you could now endure,
Except, before I dance away,
That I’m a grateful cure.
Cxrorus—A cure, a cure, oh! yes, a cure
Iam a grateful cure, etc.

Old Jessy.

Copied by permission of Lez & Waker, Music Publishers,
(22 Chestnut st., Philadelphia, owners of the copyright.
Old Jessy once was young like us,
“ Could hoe de cotton well;
But now he’s passing away from us
Like de dew-drop on de hill.
Cxrorus—Den pity poor old Jessy,
And wipe de tear-drop from your eye,
For Jessy’s gwine to leave us soon,
And in de ground to lie,

Old Jessy’s hair is gray and long,
Like de moss upon de tree,

And his teeth drop out ob de old jaw bone,
Oh, soon he will be free.

Old Jessy can’t play de banjo,
His fingers are stiff and sore;
Dey tremble so de bones do crack,
He'll play no nebber more.

He used to go out in de oyster boat,
Far, far away from shore,

But he will nebber go out again,

Echo answers nebber more.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 
 

 

15

 

 

King Cotton.

Copied by permission of Lex & Waker, Music Publishers,
722 Chestnut st., Philadelphia, owners of the copyright.

King cotton, we've heard of thy fame,
And gladly would hear of thee more ;
Now, say from what region you came,
How high would your majesty soar?
Say, where have you planted your throne?
How far does your kingdom extend?
And art thou supreme and alone,
To whom all the nations must bend?

King cotton, art thou the fair plant,

Which wealth to our nation doth bring?
And dost thou so freely now grant

The right thus to claim thee as king?
The king then replied with a smile,

I have neither kingdom nor throne;
I’m lowly and modest in style,

And raised by the darkies alone.

But if I am claimed as a king,
By some of the fanciful South,
They hope for the aid I may bring,
In crushing the strength of the North.
The ridicule rests not on me,
But those that have set up their claim ;
Who wish from the North to be free,
And gain as a nation high fame.

 

 

 

 

 

 
 

 

 

  

 

 

16

 

Little Major,

Copied by permission of Roor & Capw, Music Publishers. |
95 Clark st., Chicago, owners of the copyright.
At his post the “ Little Major”
Dropped his drum that battle day ;
On the grass, all stained with crimson,
Through that battle night he lay,
Crying, “Oh! for love of Jesus,
Grant me but this little boon ! _
Can you, friend, refuse me water ?
Can you, when I die so soon ?”
Cuorus—Crying, “Oh ! for love of Jesus,
Grant me but this little boon !
Can you, friend, refuse me water?
Can you, when I die so soon ?”

 

There are none to hear or help him ;
All his friends were early fled,

Save the forms, outstretched around him,
Of the dying and the dead.

Hush—they come! there falls a footstep !
How it makeg his heart rejoice !

They will help, o, they will save him,
When they irear his fainting voice—

Now the lights are flashing ’round him,
And he hears a loyal word ;

Strangers they whose lips pronounce it,
Yet he trusts his voice is heard,

Tt is heard—oh God, forgive them !
They refuse his dying prayer!

“Nothing but a wounded drummer,”
So they say, and leave him there—

 

 

 

 

 
 

 

 

 

   

 

   

17

 

See! the moon that shone above him,
Vails her face, as if in grief;

And the skies are sadly weeping,
Shedding tear-drops of relief.

Yet to die, by friends forsaken,
With his last request denied,

This he felt his keenest anguish,
When, at morn, he gasped and died.

Kind Friends are neay Her,

Copied by permission of Luz & Waker, Music Publishers,
722 Chestnut st., Philadelphia, owners of the copyright.

Sleep, noble hero, let not one fear

Steal o’er thy brave heart, as death draws near,

For in her sorrow, mother will find

True hearts around her, loving and kind.

Though you haye left her, weeping for you,

Kind friends are near her, constant and true;

They'll surely cheer her when you are gone,

They will not see her mourning alone.
Cuorts—Friends will be near her, angels will come,

To guard and cheer her, when you are gone.

Angels will guard her, by night and day,
Gently they'll lead her, up through the way.
Though friends forsake her, they will be there,
Ready to save her from dark despair.

Should angels leave her, still there is One,
Who will receive her when all are gone;

One who wiil guide her safe to that home,
Where no more sorrow ever can come.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 
 

 

   

   

 

18

 

They Pray for us at Home.

Copied by permission of Lez & Waker, Music Publishers,
{22 Chestnut st., Philadelphia, owners of the copyright.

“Oh, would there were some kind one,
Who, on this Sabbath day,
Would breathe one prayer to cheer us,
As our spirits pass away ;
If there only were some loved one
To grasp us by the hand,
And whisper words of comfort
As we leave this earthly strand.
Curorvus—They pray for us at home,
At morning's early light,
They pray for us at noon,
And in the silent night,

I feel that life is fleeting,
I hear the fearful roar
Of the tide that soon will bear us out
_ From life's receding shore ;
But I could go ne’er fearing,
Free from all doubt and care,
If some dear one would offer up
For me a parting prayer.

It was our country called us,
‘We answered to. the call,
We left our wives and children dear,
To conquer or to fall ;
And now that death is near us,
Why need we fear its gloom ?
For we shall wake victorious,
Beyond the silent tomb.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 
 

 

 

19

 

My Country so Dear,
Copied by permission of Len & Watken, Music Publishers,
722 Chestnut st., Philadelphia, owuers of the copyright.
My country so dear, I viewed with delight,
Abounding in wealth, and peerless in might;
When lo, a dark cloud did evil portray !
In vision I saw a terrible day,
And forth to my gaze, with pomp and with pride,
A demon of war his charger did ride;
Who said, as he raised his conquering hand,
“TH spread cruel woes and death o’er the land.
_ Oppression is mine, and hatred to right,
And freedom Tl crush, with vigor asd might.”
The wings of the wind his spirit conveyed,
And breasts all inflamed his summons obeyed ;
He marshaled his hosts o'er hill and o’er plain,
The sons of the land were mangled and slain;
The timid with fear from homesteads did fly,
Fair cities assailed, in ashes did lie.
He scattered rich stores and millions of gold,
And multiplied ills, and sorrows untold.
My country then mourned o’er hopes that were fled,
The fate of the land, and graves of the dead.

When quickly from heaven, an angel of light
Disarmed the proud foe, and’put him to flight;
His hosts were subdued, they scattered and fled,
And freedom’s strong arms to victory led.

Then fell on my ear this message of love:

Thy country’s dark hour a blessing shall prove ;
For tyranny’s power forever shall cease,

And ver thee shall wave the banner of peace;
In wisdom and strength thy country shall be
A home’for the brave, a land for the free.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 
 

 

   

20

 

   

 

I wish He'd tell me Why ?

Copied by permission of H. McCarrrey, Music Publisher,

205 Baltimore st., Baltimore, owner of the copyright.

What mysteries are some young men!
I cannot make them out ;

I wish they'd plainly speak their minds,
Not keep us girls in doubt.

They bow, and blush, and hover round,
With many a deep-drawn sigh ;

Why don’t the silly, frightened things
Speak out and tell us why?

Just such a one is Charlie Brown,
A comely youth I know,

Who, though a brave gallant, yet proves
A chicken-hearted beau.

He haunts my footsteps night and day,
And though his tongue’s so shy,

He'll dance or sing with none but me—
I wish he’d tell me why.

I wonder now if he expects
The courting I’m to do?
I love him dearly, I confess ;
I think he loves me tvo.
’Tis really time he broke the Ice;
To make him speak I'll try ;
Instead of smiles I'll pout, and then,
I think he’ll tell me why-

 

 

 

 

 

 

 
 

 

 

21

 

Mother, Dearest, I am Coming,

Copied by permission of Henny McCarrrey, Music Publisher,
205 Baltimore st., Baltimore, owner of the copyright.

Dearest mother, since I left you
Many years have passed away ;
Iam weary of life’s pleasures,
I haye found its idols clay;
T have glided with its current,
Felt its turmoil and its pain ;
Mother, dearest, I am coming,
Take your wanderer home again.

1 know that I have often grieved you,
You, so good, so pure and mild;
Care has touched me, it has changed me,
Tm no longer weak and wild;
And my lonely heart is pining,
From thy love no more I'll roam ;
Mother, dearest, I am coming
To my childhood’s happy home.

You said your love would watch and wait;
It has watched and waited long ;

And you said it was forgiving;
I know it is true and strong.

Friends I’ve trusted have deceived me,
And so sadly now I roam,

Earth has lost for me its brightness. «
Mother, dear, I’m coming home.

 

 

 

 

ate

 

 

eta’

 
 

 

 

 

 

 

 

22

 

Grafted into the Army.

Copied by permission of Root & Capy, Music Publishers,
5 Clark st., Chicago, Ill., owners of the copyright.

_ Our Jimmy has gone for to live in a tent,
They have grafted him into the army;
He finally puckered up courage and went,
When they grafted him into the army.
I told them the child was too young, alas!
At the captain’s forequarters they said he would pass,
They’d train him up well in the infantry class,
So they grafted him into the army.
Cxrorvus—Oh, Jimmy, farewell! your brother's fell,
*Way down in Alabarmy;
I thought they would spare a lone widder’s heir,
But they grafted him into the army.

Drest up in his unicorn, dear little chap,
They have grafted him into the army ;

It seems but a day since he sot in my lap,

But they grafted him into the army.
And these are the trousies he used to wear,
Them very same buttons, the patch, and the tear,
But Uncle Sam gave him a bran new pair,

When they grafted him into the army.

Now in my provisions I see him revealed,
They have grafted him into the army ;
A picket beside the contented field,
They have grafted him into the army,
He looks kinder sickish—begins to ery,
A big volunteer standing right in his eye !
Oh, what if the ducky should up and die,
Now they’ve grafted him into the army.

 

 

 

 

  

 

 
 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

23

Shall we Meet Again,

Copied by permission of Lez & Wanker, Music Publishers,
422 Chestnut st., Philadelphia, owners of the copyright.

 

Ever since from me you parted,
For the battle plain ;

T have thought, near broken hearted,
Shall we meet again ?

In my dreams the cannons rattle,
Flashes light the sky,
And I see in every battle,

Banners floating high.
CHorvus—Morning, noon and evening,
As I pine in vain,

Ever is my spirit breathing,
Shall we meet again?

é

When the evening is revealing

Stars of golden light;
_ Or the rays of morn come stealing,

From the passing night:

Even then I know no gladness,
And I mourn in vain,

For my heart doth ask in sadness,
Shall we meet again ?

To the clouds above me flying,
Or the deep blue sky,

To each object round me lying,
Breathe I forth my sigh.

On my ear no answer falleth,
While I thus complain ;

And in vain my spirit calleth,

Shall we meet again?

 

 

 

  

 

 
 

 

   

24

 

Gay and Happy.

Copied by permission of Henry McCarrnrey, Music Publisher,
207 Baltimore st., Baltimore, owner of the copyright

 

     

I'm the girl that’s gay and happy,
Wheresoe’er I chance to be,

And I'll do my best to please you,
If you will but list to me:

So let the wide world wag as it will,
Pll be gay and happy still,

Gay and happy, gay and happy,
Pll be gay and happy still.

CHORUS.

So let the wide world wag as it will,
We'll be gay and happy still,

Gay and happy, gay and happy,
We'll be gay and happy still.

I envy neither great nor wealthy,
Poverty I ne’er despise ;
Let me be contented, healthy,
And the boon I'll dearly prize:
So let the wide world wag as it will
Tl be gay and happy still,
Gay and happy, gay and happy,
Tll be gay and happy still. (CHorvs.)

The rich have cares we little know of,
All that glitters is not gold,

Merit seldom made « show ‘of,
And true worth is rarely told:

So let the wide world wag as it will,
T'll be gay and happy still,

Gay and happy, gay and happy,

Tul be gay and happy still. (Cmorvs.)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 
 

 

 

 

 

25

 

If the President should sit beside me,
Td sing my song with usual glee ;
Fools might laugh and knaves deride me,
Still I'd gay and happy be:
So let the wide world wag as it will,
Til be gay and happy still,
Gay and happy, gay and happy,
Tl be gay and happy still. (Corus.)
I care for all, yet care for no man—
Those that do well need not fear ;
I love a man and like a woman—
What else makes this life so dear ?
So let the wide world wag as it will,
Dll be gay and happy still,
Gay and happy, gay and happy,
Pll be gay and happy still. . (Cuorvs.)

Come in out of the Draft,

Copied by perniission of Lez & Waker, Music Publishers,
722 Chestnut st., Philadelphia, owners of the copyright.

As it was rather warm, I thought, the other day,
I'd find some cooler place the summer months to stay :

I had not Jong been gone, when a paper to me came, |

And in alist of conscripts I chanced to see my name.

 

 

I showed it to my friends, and at me they all Jaughed ; |

They said, “ How are you, Couscript ? Come in out of
the draft. ”

Oh, soon I hurried home, forT felt rather blue ;

I thought Pd ask my dad what I had better do:

Says he, “ You are not young, you're over thirty-five :

The best thing yon can do, sir, is—go and take a bride;”

My mother on me smiled, my brother at me Janghed,

And said, “ How are you, Conseript? Come in out of
the draft.”

 

 

 

 

 

 
 

  

 

 

 

26

 

{soon made up my mind that I would take a wife;

For she could save my cash, and I could save my life

[ called upon a friend, I offered her my hand,

But she said ‘‘ she couldi’t see it, for she loved some
other man.”

She told it to her ma, and at me they both laughed,

And said, ‘“‘ How are you, Conscript ? Come in out of
the draft.”

Sc nex’ T advertised, and soon a chap I found

Who said that he would go for just two hundred down.

I took him home to sleep. Says I, “Now I’m all right;”

But when I woke, I found that he’d robbed me in the
night!

I went and told the mayor: the people round me
laughed,

And said, “ How are you, Conscript ?. Come in out of
the draft,”

[ to the Provost went, my “notice” in my hand ;

I found a crowd around, and with it took my stand.

I waited there till night, from early in the morn,

And when I got inside, oh, my pocket-book was gone !

I thought Ishould go mad! but everbody laughed,

And said, ‘‘ How are you, Conscript? Come in out of
the draft.”

Tve tried to get a wife, I’ve tried to get a “sub,”

But what I next shall do, now, really, is the “ rub ;”

My money’s almost gone, and [ am nearly daft :

Will some one tell me what to do to get out of the
draft ? :

I've asked my friends all round, but at me they al)
laughed,

And said, “ How are you, Conscript ? Come in out of

the draft.”

 

 

 

 

  

 

 

 

 
 

 

 

 

|
|
|
|

 

 

 

   

Willow Cot.

Copied by permissiou of Minter & Beacnam, Music Publishess,
Baltimore, owners of the copyright.

Where the sea-waves kiss the shore,
There a cottage stands ;

Willow branches waving o’er
Flowers and golden sands.

There a gentle maiden dwells,
Peaceful is her lot ;

While the ocean billow swells
Round the Willow Cot,

When a white sail looms in sight,
By the sea-breeze fanned,

See that maiden form so light,
On the yellow strand.”

One is on the heaving deep,
Whom she loves full well;

In the visions of her sleep,
She has heard his knell!

Soon a gallant ship is seen,
And her anchor cast ;
Well known is the flag of green,
Waving from her mast ;
Safe returned, the sailor seeks,
On the sca-girt spot,
One with pleasure-blushing cheeks,
At the Willow Cot.

 

 

 

  

 

 
 

 

   

 

 

   

28

 

Was my Brother in the Battle ?

Copied by permission of Horace Waters, Music Publisher,
481 Broadway, N. Y. owners of the copyright.

Tell me, tell me, weary soldier,
From the rude and stirring wars,
Was my brother in the battle,
Where you gained those noble scars ?
He was ever brave and valiant,
And I know he never fled,
Was his name among the wounded,
Or numbered with the dead ?
Was my brother in the battle,
When the tide of war ran high ?
You would know him in a thonsand,
By his dark and flashing eye.
Caorus—Tell me, tell me, weary soldier,
Will he never come again,
Did he suffer ’mid the wounded
Or die among the slain ?

Was my brother in the battle,
When the noble Highland host
Were so wrongfully outnumbered,
On the Carolina coast ?
Did he struggle for the Union,
’Mid the thunder and the rain,
Till he fall among, the brave,
On a bleak Virginia plain ?
Oh, I’m sure that he was dauntless,
And his courage ne’er would lag
While contending for the honor,
Of our dear and cherished flag. (Crorvs )

 

 

 

 

 

 
 

 

 

 

 

29

 

Was my brotlier in the battle,

When the flag of Erin came
To the rescue of .our banner,

And protection of our fume ?
While the fleet from off the waters,

Poured out terror and dismay,
Till the bold and erring foe

Fell like leaves'on Autumn day ?
When the bugle called to battle

And the cannon deeply roared,
Oh! I wished I could have seen bim,

Draw his sharp and glittering sword.

“Mother Kissed Me in my Dream.”

Copied by permission of Wm, A. Pond & Co., Music Publishers,
547 Broadway, N. Y., owners of the copyright.
Lying on my dying bed
Thro’ the dark and silent night,
Praying for the coming day,
Came a vision to my sight:
Near me stood the forms I loved,
In the sunlight’s mellow gleam ;
Folding me unto her breast,
Mother kissed me in my dream.

Comrades, tell her, when you write,
That I did my duty well;

Say that when the battle raged,
Fighting in the van I fell ;

Tell her, too, when on my bed,
Slowly ebbed my being’s stream,

How | knew no peace until
Mother kissed me in my dream.

 

 

 

 

 
 

 

 

  

80

 

On the Shores of Tennessee.

Copied by permission of Lez & Watker, Music Publishers, |

922 Chestnut st., Philadelphia, owners of the copyright.

   

 

 

Move my arm-chair, faithful Pompey,
In the sunshine bright and strong,
For this world is fading, Pompey,
Massa wou’t be with you long ;
And I fain would hear the south-wind
Bring once more the sound to me,
Of the wavelets softly breaking
On the shores of Tennessee.
Of the wavelets sofily breaking,
On the shores of Tennessee.

Mournful though the ripples murmur,
As they still the story tell

How no vessels float the banner
That [ve loved so long and well ;

I shtall listen to their music,
Dreaming that again I sec

Stars and Stripes on sloop and shallop,
Sailing up the Tennessee,

While the south-wind fondly lingers
’Mid the veteran’s silver hair,

While the bondman close beside him,
Stands behind the old man’s chair ;

Ha! above the foliage yonder
Something flutters wild and free !

Massa! Massa! Hullelujah !

The flug’s come back to Tennessee.

 

 

 

 

 

 
 

 

 

 

  

81

 

Pompey, hold me on your shoulder,
Help me stand on foot once more,
That I may salute the colors,

As they pass before my door,
Here’s the paper signed that frees you,
Give a freemin’s shout with me!
God and Union be our watchword,

Evermore in Tennessee,

I Remember Goa inn when Sadly
we Parted,

Copied by permission of Liz & Waker, Music Publishers,
722 Chestuut st., Philadelphia, owners of the copyright.
I remember the hour when sadly we parted,
The tears on ‘your pale cheek glistening like dew,
When, clasped in your arms, almost broken-hearted,
I swore by the bright sky I'd ever be true.
True to the love that nothing could sever,
And true to the flag of my country forever.
Cuorus—Then weep not, love, oh, weep not,
Think not hopes are vain,
For when this fatal war is over,
We will surely. meet again.

Oh, let not, my own love, the summer winds, winging
Their sweet laden zephyrs o’er land and o’er sea,
Bring aught to your heart, with the autumn birds

singing,
But hopes for the future, and bright dreams of me;
For while in your pure heart my memory you're
~ keeping,
I ne'er can be lonely, while _— or sleeping.

 

ee ee ee

 

 

 

 
 

   

 

 

 

 

 

But if, while the loud shouts of victory are ringing,
O’er the land that foul traitors have sought to betray
You hear, o'er the voices so joyfully singing,
That he who so loved you has fallen in the fray,
Oh, think that he’s gone where there's dark treason
never,
Where tears and sad partings are banished forever.
Chorus—Tihen weep not, love, oh, weep not,
One hope is not vain,
That when the war of life is over,
We in heaven may meet again.

My Love is on the Battle-Pield,

Copied by permission of Luz & Waker, Music Publishers,
722 Chestnut st., Philadelphia, owners of the copyright.

My love is on the battle-field,
The traitor foe before him,
His hand is firm, his heart is true,
The Stars and Stripes are o’er him.
CHorus—God grant that when the fight is done,
The cry shall be, our cause has won.

My soul is in the battle’s din,
For there are hope and glory ;

And though the Union ranks may thin,
They'll live in freedom’s story.

My love is in the battle’s front,
Oh ! .nay no ill betid_ him;

But rather than a coward fall,

I'd perish there beside him.

 

 

 

 

 

 
 

 

 

  

   

 

 

83

 

Katy Avourneen.

Copied by permission of Lez & Wauxer, Music Publishers, >
722 Chestnut st., Philadelphia, owners ef the copyright.

*T was a cold winter night and the tempest was snarlin’,
The snow like a sheet covered cabin and sty,
When Barney flew over the hills to his darlin’,
And tapped at the window where Katy did lie.
“My jewel,” cried he, “are ye sleepin’ or wakin’?
The night’s bitter cold and my coat it is thin ;
Oh, the storm, ’tis a brewin’, the frost it is bakin’,
Oh, Katy, avourneen, you must let me in,”

“ Arrah, Barney,” cried she, and she spoke through the
window,

“Ah, would you be takin’ me out of my bed ?

To come at this time it’s a shame and a sin too,
It’s whisky, not love, that’s got into your head:

Ut your heart it is true, of my fame you'd be tender;
Consider the time and there’s nobody in;

And what’s a poor girl but her name to defend her ?
No, Barney, ayourneen, I won’t lot you in.”

“ Ah, cushla,” cried he, “it’s my heart is 4 fountain,
That weeps for the wrong I might lay at your door;

Your name is more white than the snow on the mountain,
And Barney would die to preserve it as pure;

Tll go to my home, tho’ the winter winds face me,
Pll whistle them off, for I’m happy within ;

And the words of my Kathleen shall comfort and bless

me,
‘Oh Barney, ayourneen, I won’t let you in.’”

 

 

 

 

 

 
 

 

   

   

 

 

 

 

34

 

Love's Perfect Cure,

Copied by permission of Lew & WALKER, Music Publishers.
722 Chestnut st., Philadelphia, owners of the copyright,
Oh, Cupid, naughty little boy,
He trifles with the heart;
And when he ought to bring us joy
He sorrow doth impart.
His arrows strike so very deep,
Their pain you can’t endure ;
So pray attend, and you will reap
From me a perfect cure.
Crorus—A cure, a cure, a perfect cure,
Oh, yes! a certain cure;
So, ladies, listen, and receive
From me a perfect cure.

If to a ball you hap to go,
And you should chance see there,

A handsome, well-shaped, six-foot beau,
Of manners truly rare,

Before you fall in love too rash,
About his means be sure ;

For if he has neither land nor eash,
That ought to be a cure.

Another begs with him you'll taste
The matrimonial cup ;

Perchance from shoulder to the waist
He's only a make up.

If information you would win,
If his plump legs are pure,

If his calves will only bear a pin,

For you twill prove avcures

 

 

 

 

 

 

 
 

 

 

 

35

 

 

 

If your “cher ami’s” uncouth and rough,
That ne’er would suit your plan;

And then a lover who takes snuff
Is not a pleasant man.

The fellow may not be amiss,
Good looking, rich, demure’;

But should he sneeze when he would kiss,
Why that would ‘be a cure.

A man who gambles never should gain
A woman’s fond regards;

¥or when at home he should remain,
He's off to dice or cards.

His thoughts are how of trumps the ace
At whist he may secure ;

So ’gainst a gambler set your face,
And that, will prove a cure,

Don’t throw yourself:away for gold ;
You may buy gold to dear;.

Don’t choose a husband that's too old,
Or Fatermay prove severe ;

His temper study well, before
Your heart he doth allure;

And if kindness he hath not in store,
Why. let,that be your cure.

The sort of man I would advise
A girl of'sense to find,

Is one who a good wife can prize,
Both sensible and kind.

The troubles of this life above,
Not over rich nor poor ;

On sucha one bestow your love;

’T will prove a perfect cure.

 

 

 

 

 

 

  

 
 

 

   

 

 

  

 

The Virginia Rosebud,

Copied by permission of Lez & Wa.krr, Music Publishers,
723 Chestnut st., Philadelphia, owners of the copyright.

I had a rosebud in my garden growing,
A plant I cherished with a father’s care;
When other darkies round that plant was hoeing,
Its zefferessence seemed to fill the air.
Oh, how I watched that little plant while creeping,
She, like her mother, always light and gay;
One night I lefi her in her bed a sleeping, _
And in the morning she was stole away.
Czorus—Dey stole, dey stole, dey stole dis child away,
Dey stole, dey stole, dey stole dis child away.
Oh hear me now calling, :
Oh hear me I pray,
My heart, my heart, is breaking for my child,
For my child dey stole away.
Oh! oh! oh! hear dat voice !
Oh! oh! oh! hear dat voice !
I hear dar hoofs upon de hill,
I hear dem fainter, fainter still.
Dey stole, ete,

Oh then this heart was withered and dejected;

I wandered through the fields, but all in vain;
And every plant on me a shade reflected,

The tears they fell around me like the rain.
The sun above looked down upon my sorrow,

My heart was withered, I sought for her in yain;
My child was stole, was lost to me forever,
T never saw that angel form again,

 

 

 

 

A

 

 

 

 
 

   

 

 

 

   

37

 

 

A Curious Circumstance,

, Copied by permission of Lrz & Wauxer, Music Publishers,

122 Chestnut st., Philadelphia, owners of the copyright.

As once Iwas walking o’er mead and lea,

A curious circumstance happened to me:

A huntsman I saw in the forest’s break,

He rode up and down beside a lake;

And many a deer flew past the spot,

But what did the huntsman? he shot them not;
He blew his horn by the forest green,

Now tell me, good people, what could that mean ?

And as I walked on along the shore,

A curious circumstance happened once more

In a little bark a fisher-maid

Rowed o’er by the side of the forest glade; |

In the twilight the fishes around her shot,

But what did the maiden? she caught them not;
She sung a song by the forest green,

Now tell me, good people, what could that mean?

Retracing my steps at evening’s fau,

The most curious circumstance happened of all:
A riderless horse stood in the break,

Anempty skiff reposed on the lake ;

And passing the grove of alders there,

What heard I therein’? a whispering pair;

The moon shone brightly, the night was serene,
Now tell me, good people, what could that mear ?

 

 

 

 

 
 

 

    
  
 
  
 
 
 
 
   
   
  
 
 
   
  
 
 
 
 
    
 
    

88

On the Field of Battle, Mother.

Copied by permission of Lez & Warxrn, Music Publishers
722 Chestnut st., Philadelphia, owners of the copyright.

 

On the field. of battle, mother, 5
_ All the night alone I lay,

Angels watching o’er me, mother
Till the breaking of the day.

I lay thinking of you, mother,
And the loving ones at home,

Till to our dear cottage, mother,
Boy again, I seemed to come.

Tie to whom you taught me, mother,
On my infant knee to pray,

Kept my heart from fainting, mother,
When the vision passed away.

‘In the gray of morning, mother,
Comrades bore me to the town ;

From my bosom, tender fingers
Washed the drops that trickled down.

 

I must soon be going, mother,
Going to the home of rest ;

Kiss me as of old, my mother,
Press me nearer to your breast.

Would I could repay you, mother,
For your faithful lov. and care;

God uphold and bless you, mother,
In this bitter woe you bear.

Kiss for me my little brother,
Kiss my sisters, loved so well, ®

Wlien you sit together, mother.

Tell them how their brother fell.

 

 

 

 

 

 
 

 

 

 

39

Tell to them the story, mother,
When I sleep beneath the sod,

That I died to save my country,
All from love to hor and God.

Leaning on the merit, mother,
Of the One who died for all,
Peaée is in my bosom, mother,
Hark! I hear the angels call!
Don’t you hear them singing, mother?
Listen tothe music's swell !
Now I leave you, loving mother ;
God be with you; fare you well’

“The Seagsere the Sea.”

€opied by permission of Lex & Waker, Music Publishers,
722 Chestnut st., Philadelphia, owners of the copyright,
Oh, tell me not the woods are fair,
Now spring is on her way ;
Well, well I know how brightly there
In joy the young leaves play; _
How sweet, on winds of morn or eve,
The violet’s breath may be,
Yet ask me, woo me not to leave
My lone-rock -by the sea,

The wild waves’ thunder’on the shore,
The curlew’s restless cries,

Unto my watching heart are more
Than all earth’s melodies.

Come back, my ocean rover, come!
There’s but one place for me,

Till I can greet thy swift sail home—
My lone rock by the sea!

 

 

 

 

 

 
 

 

 

  

   

 

40

“Trust to Luck.”

Copied by permission of Lex & Wa.ker, Music Publishers,
722 Chestnut st., Philadelphia, owners of the copyright.

Trust to luck, trust to luck, and stare fate in the face,

Sure your heart must be aizy it it’sin the right place;

Let the world wag awry, and your friends tyrn to foes,

When your pockets are dry and threadbare your
clothes ;

Should woman deceive you, when you've trusted her
heart,

Ne’er sigh, ’twon’t relieve you, but add to the smart.

Trust to luck, trust to luck, and stare fate in the face,

Sure your heart must be aizy, if it’sin the right place.

Trust to luck, trust to luck, and stare fate in the face,
Sure your heart must be aizy if it’s in the right place;
Let the wealthy look grand, and the proud pass you by,
With a back of the fist and disdain in their eye;

Snap your fingers and smile, let them pass on their way,
And remember the while every dog has his day.

Trust to luck, trust to luck, and stare fate in the face,
Sure your heart must be aizy, if it’s in the right place.

The Rhinoceros,

Copied by permission of Lex & Watker, Music Publishers
722 Chestnut st., Philadelphia, owners of the copyright.
Oh, have yousseen them curious beasts, the Rhionoscer-
osses ?
With horns upon their noses like an elephant’s proloscis?
Oh, yes, in Africa I’ve seen them Rhionoscerosses,
They catch us niggers on their horns and in the air
they toss us.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 
 

 

 

  

 

   

 

 

41

 

Cxorus—Oh, have you seen them curious beasts, the

Rhionoscerosses ?
With horns upon their noses like an elephant’s pro-
boscis.

And is it true they rolls in mud and revels in morasses,

Until they go ashore to dry and feed on various grasses ?

Oh yes, they’re quite amphibious, them Rhionoscerosses,

And when they can’t get nothing else their grub is like
a hoss’s,

They say their hidesis all in folds, as tightas you can
bind it,

And when you fires a brick at “em, they never seems
to mind it:

They never cares for bricks nor sticks nor any such in-
wention, ,

And even treats rewolvers us unworthy of attention.

But tell me how the niggers does, who so extremely
hates em;
And of the methods they employs all for to captivate
‘em? 5
They baits a trap with sugar-cane and that’s the way
_ they tree ’em,
Then sells ’em to menageries, or else to some museum.

So, that’s the way the niggers catch them all astound-
in’ critters! -

I thought from wot you said of horns, perhaps they
bit at bitters ! ;

Sometimes they gives ard takes a nip if waked from
their reposes,

But ain’t the only beasts as shows their horns upon

their noses.

 

 

 

 

 
 

e

 

a

   

 

   

42

 

 

You Say I Know not why I’m Sad.

Copied by permiesion of Minter & Bracnam, Music Publishers

Baltint sre, owners of the copyright.

My heart is sad; yes! I know why
Its chords are so unstrung ;
And why the free, blue stream has not
The spell that o’er it hung ;
*Tis that this hear\ has ever been
Deyoted true to thee ;
Oh! chide me not that now I weep
Thy faithless yows to me! 4

Did’st thou not know there Awelt within
This heart, so lonely now,
A love for thee, and thee alone,
Which brighteued o’er my brow ?
That, ’mid the gay and festive scenes
Where mirth and wit flowed free,
I coldly turned from all around,
And fondly clung to thee?

But now, alas! we often meet,
And smile as once before,
And utter words of kindness too,
But not the words of yore.
Now that thy heart which beats so free,
To me seems gay and glad,
Another's voice can charm thee now,
’Tis this that makes me sad |

 

 

 

 

 

 

 
 

 

 

 

 

 

 

43

 

I Loved that Dear Old Flag the Best.

Copied by permission of’ Lez & Wa xeEr, Music Publishers,
* 22 Chestnut st., Philadelphia, owners of the copyright.

Look within my knapsack, you will find them there,
Pictures of my mother; and of sister dear ;
Let me once more see them ere my life is: past,
Once more let me kiss them: it will be the last.
CHORUS.
I wept when I bade my mother adieu,
My sister was clasped to my breast,
And they knew that I loved them fondly and true,
But I loved that dear old flag the best!

Tell them very gently, when you've lain me low :
Should it come too roughly, they would die I know ;
Tell them that at parting I did sigh for them;

Tell them that in heaven we will meet again.

Raise me while the twilight lingers o’er the plain, ,
Let me see that old flag floating once again ;

Let me see “its bright Stars” gleaming in the sun,
Let me see “its broad Stripes” ere the day is done,

When in death I’m sleeping, that old flag. shall wave
O’er our States United, and o’er treason’s grave;
Peace and plenty smiling o’er each happy home,
Bringing naught. but gladness, in the days to come,
CHORUS.
I wept when I bade my mother adieu,
My sister’ was clasped to my breast,
And they knew that I loved them fondly and true,
But I loved that dear old flag the best.

 

 

Reena "5

 

 

 

 
 

 

  

 

 

 

44

_ The Nation shall not. Die,

Copied by permission of Lez & Waker, Music Publishers,
"22 Chestnut st., Philadelphia, owners of.the copyright.

 

The land in which we live, and love,
Oh! twas a happy land,

Before the rebel sword was drawn
With fratricidal hand;

And though the earth may run with blood
In many a well fought field,

We'll strike while yet a man remains,
For freemen never yield!

Cxorvus—Then raise the starry banner,

And point it toward the sky ;

Though thousands yet may perish,
The nation shall not die.

The patriots of the earlier time
We never can forget;

The hearts so honest yet sublime,
The soil their life-blood wet;

The names that were immortal made
By many a battle won— /

No, never, while the fame and faith
Descend from sire to son.

Cuorus—Then up the starry banner

And let it proudly fly;

For while a loyal heart remains,
The nation shall not die.

The cause for which we speak and fight,
Oh! ’tis a-holy cause;

It seeks to vindicate the right,
And freedom’s Godlike laws ;

 

 

——————

 

 

 

 

  

 
 

 

 

45

 

And millions yet unborn shall rise
To bless the glorious band,
Who grappled with the deadly foe,
To save this loyal land!
Cxorvus—Then raise the starry banner,
And bear it proudly high ;
And let the cry forever be,
The nation shall not die

——

Tis Midnight on the Stormy Deep.

Copied by permission of Mitier & Beacuam, Music Publishers,
Baltimore, owners of the copyright.

Tis midnight on the stormy deep,
My solitary watch I keep,

And think of her I left behind,
And ask if she’s still true and kind;

When I was forced to go away,

How sweet a kiss she gave that day;
With garlands fair my hat she dressed,
And pressed me to her faithful breast.

One moment more I pressed her hand,
One moment more I leave the land;
While life remains, while o’er the sea,
I love, my lady, none but thee.

The lady heard his voice again,

Her gentle breagt was filled with pain ;
But well she knew her lover true,

Was far upon the ocean blue.

 

 

 

 

 

ecoctiantemnlaa ar]

~%

 
 

  

   

 

 

 

46

~

My Little Valley Home,

Copied by permission of Lez & Waker, Music Publishers,
722 Chestnut st., Philadelphia, owners of the copyright.

In Carolina’s clime TI spent a happy time,
With my gentle Rhody Gray;
In a little vale midst the cornfields prime,
Our sweet little cottage lay.
Cxorvs—That cherished spot.is ne’er forgot,
No matter where I roam;
Many suns may set, still I never shall forget
That sweet little valley home.

That cherished spot, forget it I shall not,
No matter where I roam;

Twas there with Rhody many happy days
I spent in my little valley home:

Poor Rhody. Gray. has passed away,
Twas op. a summer night,

Death’s icy hand her spirit, took away
To a home more happy and bright.

They laid her down in the cold, cold ground,
Ever sadly now I roam,
But it seems to me still her form I see
In that sweet little valley home.
Cxorvus—That cherished spot is ne’er forgot,
No matter where I roam ;
Many suns may Set, still I never shall forget
That sweet little valley home.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 
 

 

47

Old John Jones.

Copied by permission of Lez & Waker, Music Po>liskera,
“22 Chestnut st., Philadelphia, owners of the copyright.

Oh, old John Jones was a merry old man,
A merry old man was he,
He fell in love with a pretty lass,
In love with a lass fell he.
Cxuorvus—He fell in love with a pretty lass,
In love with a lass fell he.

The lass was fair and the lass was young,
Fair and young the lass was she,

But old John Jones was a very old man,
A-very old man was he. (Cxonrvs.)

And old John Jones was ugly as sin,
As ugly as sin was he; ©
But he could dance and he could sing:
Such a gay old man was he. (CHoRvs.)

Now old John Jones told the pretty lass
Greatly in love was he;

But the young lass boxed the old man’s ears,

And cried-out, “Oh fiddle de dee?” (Cu0.)

80 old John Jones was grieved to the heart,
Oh, very much grieved was he
That the handsome lass has acted se,
So he died quite suddenly.
Cuorus—He fell in love with a pretty lass,
In love with a pretty lass fell he.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 
 

 

 

  

48

 

   

 

Tom Thumb’s Wedding.

Copied by permission of Heny McCarrrer, Music Publisher,
205 Baltimore st., Baltimore, owners of the copyright.

Be kind, friend Tom, unto the wife

Confided to thy care,
And may she always cheer thy life,
Thine every pleasure share ;
And while together you may tread
Life’s fitful, mazy way,
Remember, Tom, jhe promise made
Upon thy wedding-day.

Be generous, Tom, unto thy bride,
As hand in hand you go,
And let it ever be thy pride
To shield her heart from woe ;
And ne’er forget ’til] latest breath,
The homage each should pay :
Love thou, and cherish until death,
She, honor and obey.

"Tis then, dear Tom, that you shall know

The pleasures earth can give
To mortals, dwelling here below,
Who learn to love and live!

Then live and love, as each had ought,

"Till life’s poor task is done:

“Two souls with but a single thought,

Two hearts that beat as one.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 
 

 

 

 

 

  

49

 

Evangeline,

Copied by permission of S. Brainarp & Co., Music Publishers»
203 Superior st., Cleveland, owners of the copyright.

Sweet Evangeline, my lost Evangeline,

We have lived and loved each other, fond and true,
Ever true to thee, though far away I’ve been,

My heart has ever dwelt with you ;
But oh, those happy days will ne’er return,

Those happy days that we have seen,
For I am left to weep alone,

My sweet Evangeline.

CHORUS.

Oh; how sad we’ve been, lost Evangeline,

Since we laid thee where the sweetest flowers wave,
And the angels bright, robed in spotless white,

Are watching o’er thy green and mossy grave.
Evangeline, Evangeline, Evangeline, Evangeline,

She’s gone to the silent grave. é

Tam lonely now, my dear Evangeline,

The days are long, the nights are sad and drear ;
And how changed, alas! each well-remembered scene,

Since you and I were sitting here; .
Alas! you nevermore will smile on me,

And life is now a sad, sad dream;
I lived to love none else but thee,

My sveet Evangeline.

CHORUS.

Oh, how sad we’ve been, lost Evangeline,

Since we laid thee where the sweetest flowers wave,
And the angels bright, robed in spotless white,

Are watching o’er thy green and mossy grave.
Evangeline, Evangeline, Evangeline, Evangeline,

 

 

 

She’s gone to the silent grave.

 

 

  
 

 

   

 

 

50

 

Boy with the Auburn Hair.

Copied: by permission of Lez & Watkzr, Music Publishers,
722 Chestnut st., Philadelphia, owners of the copyright.

It was onasummer’s morning all in the month of May,

And in those flowery garduing where Bessie she did
stray,

I overheard a damsuiel in sorrow to complain,

All for the’ sake of her lovier, he plowed the roaring
main.

Cuorvs—With his oh, oh, oh oh oh oh oh, ho, he was
her darling boy,

He was the boy with the auburn hair and his name
was McAvoy.

I stept up to this damsuiel and did her much surprise,
Because she did not know me, I being in singular dis-

guise. =

Says I, “ My charming creature, my gay young heart’s
delight,

How far have you to travuiel this dark and stormy
night ?” - (CHorus.)

“The way, kind sir, to Manniyunk, if you will please to
show,

And pity a poor distracted maid, for there I have to go,

In search of the faithless, heartless young man, and
Snicklefritz is his name,

All on the banks of the Schullikill ’m told he does

remain. (CHoRus.)
“Tf Johnny Kizer he was here he’d keen me from all
harm,

But he’s on the field of battuiel with his gallant uniform ;
He’s on the field of battuiel, his foes he will destroy,
Like a roaving boy from Darbia he fought in German-
town.” (Onortvs.)

 

 

 

 

 

  

 

 
 

 

 

 

 

Bh.

 

vennie Lorn,

7

gopied > of Henny McCarrrey, Music Publisher,
205 Baltimore st., Bakimore, owner of the copyright,
The tear was in the soldier’s eye,
As on a. summer’s morn
He bid a last and fond good-by,
To weeping Jennie Lorn,
They strayed down to the meadow, welere,
’*Mid the rustling of the corn,
He first had whispered words of love
To pretty Jennie Lorn,
Crorvus—Good-by, Jennie, dear,
Do not weep for me,
For when the war is over
Then I'll come back to thee !

The summer's sun has sunk to rest,
The corn is gathered now;

The red, red rose has withered,
The leaves fall off the bough !
And keen and cold the wint’ry blast

Across the moor is borne,
And why does not the soldier write
To weeping Jcnuie. Lorn?

; 2
At length, one day, a weary step
Approached the cottage door,—
A wounded comrade brought the news,
Her Edward was no more;
She spoke no word, she made no. sigh,
But the robin on the thorn,
Ere spring had come, chirped sadly o’er
The grave of Jennie Lorn,

 

 

 

 

 

 

  

 

 
 

 

 

 

   

52

 

Our Country and Flag.

Copied by permission of Lex & Waker, Music Publishers,
(22 Chestnut st., Philadelphia, owners of the copyright.

Our flag and our country! heaven’s blessings attend
them ;
While we live we will cherish, protect and defend them ;
While loyal and true hearts for freedom beat ever,
No foeman or faction our country can sever.
Hurrah! Hurrah ! our country forever,
Hurrah! Hurrah! our country and flag.
Cnorus-~Hurra ! Hurra! Hurra! etc.

Our Union must stand throughout all future ages,
Enshrined in our hearts and in history’s pages ;
As bought with the blood of our fathers, we cherish
And swear to preserve and maintain it, or perish.
Hurrah! Hurrah ! our Union forever,
Hurrah ! Hurrah! our country and flag.

Our country is the land of the patriot’s glory ;
The home of our Washington, honored in story ;
The land of the friendless, the exile and stranger,
The refuge of liberty and freedom from dager.
Hurrah ! Hurrah! our country forever,
Hurrah! Hurrah! our country and flag.

Oh, may ther this Union be the home for all nations ;

For millions on millions thro’ all generations ;

And the deeds of our fathers be ever made glorious,

And our Star Spangled Banner be ever victorious.
Hurrah! Hurrah! our country forever,
Hurrah! Hurrah! our country and flag.

 

 

 

 

 

 

EH
 

 

 

 

 

 

53

 

Darling Nora's Mine,

Copied by permission of Mituer & Bracuam, Music Publishers,
Baltimore, owners of the copyright.

No more wayward roving o’er the ocean brine:

Gentle, kind and loving, darling Norah’s mine ;

Ever have I loved her, lo, these many years,

In the storm and sunshine, in our smiles and tears.

Cuo.—No more wayward roving o’er the ocean brine;
Gentle, kind and loving, darling Norah’s mine.

Years ago I sought her, but foul slander came
With its native venom, ruining my fame; |
Bitter cup for Norah, well-nigh death to me:
I went forth a rover, o’er the stormy sea.

Till, one night in winter, in a fearful gale,
From aloft they shouted: “ Hard a-lee! a sail !’”
Lo, a ship, dismantled, shattered, leaking fast,
O’er the foaming waters floated slowly past.

In our tossing pinnace swiftly did we glide,
Struggling through the tempest to the vessel’s sids.
Kneeling in the cabin, with the crew at prayer,
Pale, and calm, and weary, we found Norah there.

In a lovely cottage looking o’er the sea, °

Now a wife and mother, Norah davells with me ;
Ever shall I love her through the coming years,

In the storm and sunshine, in our smiles and tears,

 

 

 

 

 

  

 

 
 

 

 

  

54

 

The Song of the Guard.

Copied by permission of Lrz & Waker, Music Publishers,

722 Chestnut st., Philadelphia, owners of the, copyright.

   

 

The weary night is, o’er at last!
We ride so still, we ride so fast,

We ride where death is lying ;
The morning, wind doth coldly pass-
Landlord, we'll take another glass,

Ere dying, ere dying !

Thou springing grass, that art so green,
' Shall soon be rosy-red, I ween,

My blood the hue supplying!
I drink the first draught, sword in hand,
To him who, for the fatherland,

Lies dying, lies dying !

Now quickly comes the second draught,
And that shall ;be to Freedom quaffed,
While Freedom’s foes are flying ;
The rest, oh Land! our hope and faith!
We'd drink to thee with latest breath,

Tho’ dying, tho’ dying !

My darling! ah, the glass is out!
The bullets ring, the riders shout,

No time for wine or sighing !
There.! bring my love the shivered glass ;
Charge ! on the foe! what joys surpass
Such dying, such dying !

 

 

 

 

 

 

 
 

 

  

55

 

 

 

God Bless You !

Copied by permission of Minter & Bracuam, Music Publishers,

Baltimore, owners of the copyright.

How sweetly full those simple words
Upon the human heart,

When friends long: bound by strongest ties
Are doomed:-by fate to part ;

You sadly press the hands of those
Who thus in love caress you,

And soul responsive beats to soul,
In breathing out: “ God bless you !”

“@od bless you!” ah! long months ago
I heard the mournful phrase,

When one whom I in childhood loved,
Went from my dreamy gaze ;

Now blinding tears fall thick and fast,
I mourn my long-lost treasure,

While echoes of the heart bring back
The farewell prayer, “ God bless you!”

The mother, sending forth her boy
To scenes untried and new,

Lisps not a studied, stately speech,
Nor murmurs out, “ adieu !”

She sadly says, between her sobs,
“Whene’er misfortunes press you,
Come to thy mother, boy, come back !
Good-by, my boy, ‘God bless you!”

 

 

 

 

 

 

  

 

 
 

 

 

 

   

Carrie Lee.

Copied by permission of Lez & Waker, Music Publishers,
7122 Chestnut st., Philadelphia, owners of the copyright.

They made her a grave in the wild-wood shade,
Where the trees gently wave in their bloom ;

Where the wild birds sing and the soft summer breeze,
Wafts its melodies o’er her tomb. W

Tis there little Carrie lies sleeping in death,
The pride of the village was she ;

And there many friends in their gloom sadly wept
O’er the grave of our own Carrie Lee.

CHORUS.

Then sleep, let her sleep in the grave they have made,
From the cares of the world she is free ;

Then weep, let us weep while the tall willows wave
O’er the grave of our own Carrie Lee.

They made her a grave in the wild-wood shade,
Where the violets were blooming and green,

Where naught now is heard but the warbling of birds,
And the noise of the babbling stream ;

No more her sweet voice shall the echo repeat,
No more her bright smile can we see,

All’s hushed now in death, she has gone to her rest
In heaven dwells our own Carrie Lee.

CHORUS.

Then sleep, let her sleep in the grave they have made,
From the cares of the world she is free ;

Then weep, let us weep while the tall wUlows wave,

O’er the grave of our own Carrie Lee.

 

 

 

   
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
    
  
    

 

 

 
 

 

 

 

  

37

 

Oh, Give us a Navy of Iron.

Copied by permission of Lez & Wax.keER, Music Publishers,
722 Chestnut st., Philadelphia, owners of the copyright,

Oh, give us a navy of iron,
And to man it our Yankee lads;
And we'll conquer the world’s broad ocean,
With our navy of iron-clads ;
Then adieu to Britannia’s power,
We'll crush it whenever we please ;
The Lion shall yield to the Eagle,
And Columbia shall rule the seas.
Cxrorvs—Oh, give us a navy of iron,
And to man it our Yankee lads ;
And we'll conquer the world’s broad ocean,
With our navy of iron-clads.

Old England, the foe of our fathers,
The foe of their children to-day,

Is gloating in hopes that our Union
In darkness is passing away.

But Treason shall die in its ashes,
And, stronger than ever before,
We'll turn on the jealous old tyrant,

And punish John Bull at his door.

And where in the wide world a nation
That could cope with our iron Jacks?
We would sweep all their seas and harbors,

Of their Warriors and Merriniacs.
“Then give us a navy of iron,
And we'll fling our flug to the breeze,
And prove to the despots of Europe
That freedom must reign on the seas.

 

 

 

 

 

  

 

 
    
  
  
 
 
 
 
   
   
 
   
   
 
 
   
  
 
    

 

 

 

58

 

Fairy Dreams.

Copied by permission of Imnry McCarrrey, Music Publisher,
205 Baltimore st., Baltimore, owner of the copyright.

At the foot of the hill, near the old red mill,
In a quiet, shady spot,
Just peeping through,.half hid from view,
Stands a little moss-grown cot ;
And straying through at the open door,
The sunbeams play on the sanded floor.
Cuorvus—And peeping throgh at the open door,
The sun-beams plhiy on the sanded flooz.

The easy-chair, with tender care,
Is placed by the old hearth-stone ;
With witching grace, near the fireplace
The evergreens are strewn ;
And pictures hang on the whitened wall,
As the old clock ticks in the cottage hall.

Over the door, all covered o’er
With a sack of dark-green baize,
Lies a musket old, whose worth is told:
A relic of other days,
The powder-pouch and the hunter’s horn,
Have hung beside for many a morn.

For years have fled with noiseless tread,
Like fairy dreams away,
And left in their flight, all shorn of his might,
A father, old and gray ;
And the soft wind plays with his snow-white hair,
As the old man sleeps in his easy -chair,

 

 

 

 

 

 
 

 

 

  

59

 

In at the door on the sanded floor,
Light, fairy footsteps glide,
And a maiden fair, with flaxen hair,
Kneels by the old man’s side:
An old oak, wrecked by an angry storm,
While the ivy clings to his trembling form,

“Bill and I.”

 

Copied by permission of Mituer & Beacnam, Music Publishers,

Baltimore, owners of the copyright,

The moon had just gone down, sir,
But the stars lit up the sky ;

All was still in tent and town, sir,
Not a rebel could we spy !

It was our turn at picket,

So we marched into the thicket,

To the music of the cricket,
Chirping nigh, chirping nigh.

Oh, we kept a sharp look-out, sir,

On Munson, frownin’ nigh,
But no rebel beiu” about, sir,

We sat down there by and by ;
And we watched the brook a brawlin’,
And counted stars a fallin’,

Old memories overhaulin’,
Bill and T.

And says he, “ Won’t it be glorious,
® _ When we fling our muskets by,
And home again victorious,
We hear our sweethearts cry,

 

 

 

=

 

 

 
 

 

 

  

60

 

   

 

 

Welcome back ” —A step ! Who goes there?
A shot! by heaven, the foe’s there !
Bill sat. there all composure,

But not I.

By the red light of his gun, sir,

I marked the rebel spy ,
In an instant it was done, sir,

I had fired and heard a cry.
I sprang across the stream, sir,
Oh, it seems just like a dream, sir,
The dizzy, dying gleam, sir,

Of that eye.

A youth—a very boy, sir,
I saw before me lie;
Some pretty school-girl’s toy, sir,
Had ventured there to die.
We had -hated one another,
Yet I heard him murmur “ Mother,”
So I stooped, and called him “ Brother ”—
No reply.

I crossed the stream once more, sir,
To see why Bill warn’t by—
He was leanin’ as before, sir,
But a film was o’er his eye.
I scarce knew what it meant, sir,
Till a wail broke from our tent, sir,
As into to camp we went, sir,
Bill and I.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 
 

 

  

61

 

The Bachelor’s Lament,

Copied by permission of Lez & Wauxer, Music Publiskers,

22 Chestnut st., Philadelphia, owners of the copyright.

Tl sigh no more, I'll sigh no more,
For any lady fair;

Tl steel my heart against the wiles
Of dark or auburn hair ;

I never more will heed the words,
That blandly from them flow ;

Tll close my eyes, and turn deaf ears,
Or, quickly from them go.

Cxrorvs—I'll sigh no more, I'll sigh no more,

 

 

 

For any lady fair ;
Tl steel my heart against the wiles
Of dark or auburn hair.

The girl I loved was fair to view,
Of gentle mind and mien,
Her lovers she’d a score or two,
But all did sue in vain;
She always said she loved but one—
That one myself, none other,
But when I asked her for her hand,
She’d given it to another. (Cuorvs.)

Now, ladies all, come list to me,
And think on what I say:
How would you like some cruel beau
To break your heart in play ?
Have pity, then, on poor young men,
Who honestly endeavor
To win a heart at cupid’s mart,
And keep it safe forever, (Cuorvs.)

 

 

 

 

 

  

 

 
   
  
   
 
 
 
 
 
    
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
    
 
    

 

 

62

 

How are You, Telegraph ?

Copied by permission of 8S. Brarnarp & Co., Music Publishers,
203 Superior st., Cleveland, owners of the copyright.

John Morgan paid us a visit you know,
All booted and spurred was he;
With a jolly good gang, four thousand or so,
And cannon numbering three,
He made it his boast he could gallop straight through—
What.a roystering blade was he !—
Buckeyes and Hoosiers, with all ofhis crew,
Till he heard. the bugles of Lee.

CHORUS,

Ho! gather your flocks and sound the alarm ;
For the partisan rangers have come;
Bold knights of the road, they scour each farm,
And seamper at tap of the drum.
How are you, telegraph?

John came in excellent style, to be sure
With banner and brand came he;

His clattering hoofs made a terrible roar,
And his cannon numbering three.

The Hoosiers were scared, so entered the race:
What a rowdyish set were they ;

And the Buckeyes mounted to join in the chase,
As John»y galloped their way. (CHorus.)

' John rode till the seat of his breeches was worn ;
What a crazy rider was he!

With his jolly gay flags, so dusty and torn,

And his cannon numbering three.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 
 

 

 

 

 

 

ee

 

63

 

 

5
All jaded for sleep, and quite weak in the back
His troopers vote it a bore ;
But the Buckeyes relish the fun on the track,
What a merry go round to be sure. (CHorvs.)

John ordered his scouts to the river to scan ;
What a chopfallen fellow was he ;
But when they returned, he sighed for his men
And cannon numbering three,
A pleasant old gunboat, mousing below,
Was waiting for toll that day:
John Morgan concluded his scrip wouldn’t go,
So Johnny must gallop away. (CHorus.)

John rode to the left, John rode to the right;
What a wool-gathered Morgan was he;

Don Quixote had never so ugly a plight,
With cannon numbering three.

Bedeviled, begirt on hill and on plain,
The foe on his front and his rear,

With the niost of his troopers captiiréd or slain,
Why, John, what a wonderful scare. (Corus)

Then Shackleford came with his sabre and’ gun
What « surly old fellow was hé; — '
And he gobbled them up as a boy would a bun,
And their cannon numbering three ;
He gobbled them up in all their pride ;
Jolin Morgan, where is the fun ?
And he taught them a lesson, in taking’a ride,
To go where the wires don’t run. (Crorvs.)

-

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 
 

 

64

 

The Day our Mother Died.

Copied by permission of Lee & Waker, Music Publishers,
722 Chestnut st., Philadelphia, owners of the copyright.

There was silence in the homestead,
By the hearth and in the hall,

And our sorrow, like a wintry cloud,
Hung darkly over all;

For the love that was to us far more
Than all the world beside,

Went down with mourning to the grave,
The day our mother died

We remembered how she loved us,
‘We remembered well the tears,

And the prayers that guarded all our way
Through many happy years ;
But now her earnest love no more
Might seek our steps to guide;
And all our life seemed dark to us,
.. The day our mother died.

We shall never, never meet her,
By the hearth, or in the hall;

We shall never see her face on earth,
Where’er our lot may fall ;

But memory brings each gentle grace,
As ever, to our side;

And hope and sorrow hallow atill
The day our mother died.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 
  

BEADLE’s DIM:
“Hand-Books of American Games,” for 1868,
BASE-BALL PLAYER FOR 1868.

Eprren sy HENRY CHADWICK, avtuor or “ Yacutine AND Rowine,”
“Ripine anp Driving,” ‘Book OF PEDESTRIANISM,” ETC.

Besides being a perfect popular manual and guide of the noble game, this volume
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YACHTING AND ROWING.

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HAND-BOOK OF PEDESTRIANISM.

ee Running; General Remarks on Training ; Pedestrian Feats in Ameri-
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The Character of Cricket; The Game of Cricket ; The Full Game ; The Wickets ;
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For sale everywhere ; or sent, post-paid, on receipt of price—Tzn Cants Eacu,
BEADLE AND COMPANY, Publishers, 98. William Street, N. ¥,

 

 

 

 

 
  

  
 

 

 

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