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bells Billy blow blue bonnie Boola boys bright bring Carve charming cheer Chorus comes daughter dear dem golden slippers Dixie drink ev'ry eyes face fair fall Farewell feel fellow field forget friends girl give glory golden gone good-bye Gray green gwine halle hand happy Harvard hear heart heigho Hurrah John jolly Kentucky King kiss la la la lads lady land leave lies light Listen live Look marching Maryland meet merri morn Nellie never night Nut brown maiden o'er once play ride ring river to cross roll rose round Sail shore side sing sleeps song soon soul sound stand stars sweet tears thee There's thro to-night town tree true twas Vive we'll wear wind wine Yeo-ho
Page 108 - I have seen Him in the watch-fires of a hundred circling camps; They have builded Him an altar in the evening dews and damps; I can read His righteous sentence by the dim and flaring lamps; His day is marching on. I have read a fiery gospel, writ in burnished rows of steel: "As ye deal with my contemners, so with you my grace shall deal; 10 Let the Hero, born of woman, crush the serpent with his heel, Since God is marching on.
Page 61 - Sweet and low, sweet and low, Wind of the western sea, Low, low, breathe and blow, Wind of the western sea ! Over the rolling waters go, Come from the dying moon, and blow, Blow him again to me; While my little one, while my pretty one, sleeps. Sleep and rest, sleep and rest, Father will come to thee soon...
Page 29 - THE harp that once through Tara's halls, The soul of music shed, Now hangs as mute on Tara's walls As if that soul were fled. So sleeps the pride of former days, So glory's thrill is o'er, And hearts, that once beat high for praise* Now feel that pulse no more.
Page 55 - Mid pleasures and palaces though we may roam, Be it ever so humble, there's no place like home...
Page 107 - tis of thee, Sweet land of Liberty, Of thee I sing; Land where my fathers died! Land of the Pilgrims
Page 59 - I'll not look for wine. The thirst that from the soul doth rise Doth ask a drink divine; But might I of Jove's nectar sup, I would not change for thine. I sent thee late a rosy wreath, Not so much honoring thee As giving it a hope, that there It could not withered be. But thou thereon didst only breathe, And sent'st it back to me; Since when it grows, and smells, I swear, Not of itself, but thee.
Page 108 - Mine eyes have seen the glory of the coming of the Lord: He is trampling out the vintage where the grapes of wrath are stored ; He hath loosed the fateful lightning of His terrible swift sword; His truth is marching on.
Page 61 - For auld lang syne, my dear, For auld lang syne, We'll tak a cup o' kindness yet, For auld lang syne! Should auld acquaintance be forgot, And never brought to mind ? Should auld acquaintance be forgot, And auld lang syne ? And surely ye'll be your pint-stowp, And surely I'll be mine, And we'll tak a cup o...
Page 114 - I wish I was in de land ob cotton, Old times dar am not forgotten, Look away! Look away! Look away! Dixie Land. In Dixie Land whar I was born in, Early on one frosty mornin'; Look away!