Old Ballads

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E. Nister, 1906 - 148 pages

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Page 131 - With coral clasps and amber studs: And if these pleasures may thee move, Come live with me, and be my love.
Page 22 - Mid pleasures and palaces though we may roam, Be it ever so humble, there's no place like home ; A charm from the skies seems to hallow us there, Which, seek through the world, is ne'er met with elsewhere. Home ! home ! sweet, sweet home ! There's no place like home...
Page 36 - Her eyes the glow-worm lend thee, The shooting stars attend thee, And the elves also, Whose little eyes glow Like the sparks of fire, befriend thee.
Page 23 - John Anderson my jo, John, When we were first acquent, Your locks were like the raven, Your bonnie brow was brent; But now your brow is beld, John, Your locks are like the snow; But blessings on your frosty pow, John Anderson, my jo. John Anderson my jo, John, We clamb the hill thegither; And mony a canty day, John, We've had wi...
Page 38 - Here, a sheer hulk, lies poor Tom Bowling, The darling of our crew; No more he'll hear the tempest howling, For death has broach'd him to. His form was of the manliest beauty, His heart was kind and soft; Faithful below he did his duty, And now he's gone aloft.
Page 101 - But sure such folks could ne'er beget So sweet a girl as Sally ! She is the darling of my heart, And she lives in our alley.
Page 124 - WOODMAN, SPARE THAT TREE! , spare that tree! Touch not a single bough! In youth it sheltered me, And I'll protect it now.
Page 29 - Though all the world betrays thee, One sword, at least, thy rights shall guard, One faithful harp shall praise thee!" The minstrel fell! but the foeman's chain Could not bring his proud soul under; The harp he loved ne'er spoke again, For he tore its chords asunder; And said, "No chains shall sully thee, Thou soul of love and bravery! Thy songs were made for the pure and free, They shall never sound in slavery!
Page 57 - tis to glory we steer, To add something more to this wonderful year, To honour we call you, not press you like slaves, For who are so free as the sons of the waves?
Page 11 - CHERRY-RIPE, ripe, ripe, I cry, Full and fair ones; come and buy. If so be you ask me where They do grow, I answer : There, Where my Julia's lips do smile ; There's the land, or cherry-isle, Whose plantations fully show All the year where cherries grow.

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