For, once I met a nice young maid, the
Looking so demure;

All at once to me she said:›

You are a perfect cure!

A Cure! a Cure! a Cure! a Curely moni
Now isn't I a Cure?

For, here I go, my high-gee wo

For, I'm the perfect Cure.

A Cure! & Cure! & Cure a Cure! &e!

I was laid up for seven long months, .(Indeed, I'm not romancing,)

Which brought on Mr. St. Anthony's dance:
That's why I keeps on dancing.

One day, a P'leeceman called on me;
I felt alarmed, be sure,

Along with me come on! says he;
For, you're the perfect Cure!

ri

T

T

A Cure! a Cure! a Cure! a Cure! &c.T

He took me 'fore the Magistrate,) I
And there stood faithless she j
An artful tale she did relate,

And laid the blame on me.

The case created lots of fun,
At my expense, I'm sure;

Look

Just

be done,

A buth

or else you are AA SUT like the perfect

A Cure! a Cure! a Cure! a Cure! &c.

THERE'S A SOUND AMONG THE FOREST TREES.

Words by FANNY CROSBY.-Music by WM. B. BRADbury.

Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1861, by WILLIAM B. BRADBURY, in the Clerk's Office of the District Court for the District of New Jersey,

There's a sound among the forest trees, away, boys,
Away to the battle field, hurrah!

Hear its thunders from the mountain, no delay, boys,
We'll gird on the sword and shield.

Shall we falter on the threshold of our fame, boys?
The light of the pond at them," once again, boys,
morn appears, hurrah!
Quick to duty, "up

Hurrah for our Volunteers!

They are coming from the North, they are coming from the West, Where the mighty river flows,

From New England's hallowed soil, where our Pilgrim Fathers -rest,

And the Star of Freedom rolls.

There's a sound among the forest trees, away, boys,
Away to the battle field, hurrah!

Quick to duty," up and at them," once again, boys,
Hurrah for our Volunteers?

With the standard of our Union waving o'er us,

We'll shout as we march along, hurrah!

Like the vet'rans of the past who fought before us,
Our hearts shall be true and strong.

To the struggle, noble Heroes! let us never
Be false to our sword or shield, hurrah!

To the Union let us boldly stand for ever,
And conquer, but never yield.

Let the traitor foe advance, and the cannon loudly roar,
With a peal as loud and shrill, hurrah!

In the cause of Truth and Right we will brave him as before,
For our souls are dauntless still."

There's a sound among the forest trees, &c.

7321

There's an angel form above us gently twining o
A wreath for the conqueror's brow

Through the cloud of war a beacon light is shining—
Away to the conflict now! St

For the spirit of departed years returning,

Cries on to the battle field, hurrah,

And the patriot fire in every heart is burning:

We'll conquer, but never yield.

Then our banner to the breeze, we shall triumph, never fear,
And our bark ride proudly still, hurrah!

Like the noble sires who bled for the gem we hold so dear,
On the field of Bunker Hill.

There's a sound among the forest trees, &a.

OIL ON THE BRAIN.

Entered according to Act of Congress, A. D. 1864, by J. MARSH, in the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the Eastern District of Penna.

་*

The Yankees boast that they make clocks
Which just beat all creation;"

46

Byd They never made one could keep time
With our great speculation.

Our stocks, like clocks, go with a spring
Wind up, run down again;

But all our strikes are sure to cause
Oil on the brain..^

Chorus-Stocks par, stocks up,

Then on the wane;

7. Everybody's troubled with
Oil on the brain.

P

And

nd set the people crazy with-- . f), -- af

Stocks par, &c.'p tu» sdi noi dje Yaw

T

There's neighbor Smith, a poor young man, Who could not raise a dime,

Had clothes that boasted many rents,

And took his "Nip" on time;
But now he's clad in Dandy style,
Sports diamonds, kids and cane,
And his success was owing to
Oil on the brain.

I'D CHOOSE TO BE A BABY.

Sung by LEW SIMMONS, of CARNCROSS and DIXEY's Minstrels. AIR.-I'd choose to be a daisy.

ORIGINAL VERSION.

I'd choose to be a baby,

A darling little flower,
Without a care or sorrow,

As I was in childhood's hour.
When ladies, Heaven bless them!
They'd kiss me, and they'd vow
That they could almost eat me
Why don't they do it now?

Chorus. I'd choose to be a baby,

A darling little flower,"

For the girls to kiss and cuddle me,
As they did in childhood's hour.

When I used to be a baby,

They'd to my cradle creep,

They'd kiss and hug and cuddle me,

Till I fell off to sleep.

"

Yes, they'd kiss and squeeze me too
Till I felt any how,

They'd even wash and dress me

Why don't they do it now?

I'd choose to be a baby, &c.