| First Line |
Page |
Verses |
| When duty call'd I sail'd away |
3-4 |
4 |
| Ye ling'ring winds that feebly blow |
4-5 |
5 |
| O you, whose lives on land are pass'd |
5 |
3 |
| Have we cross'd the boist'rous main |
5-6 |
1 |
| Come, pretty Poll, thy tears refain |
6 |
3 |
| Now Henry has left me to plough the [salt] sea |
7 |
3 |
| When bending o'er the lofty yard |
7-8 |
3 |
| To distant shores the breezy wind |
8-9 |
3 |
| I'm here or there a jolly dog |
9-10 |
3 |
| How poor is the man, tho' he wealth should possess |
10 |
2 |
| You ask why I thus droop my head |
10-11 |
3 |
| Night scarce her mantle had withdrew |
11-12 |
3 |
| I was press'd, while rowing so happy |
12-13 |
5 |
| When whistling winds are heard to blow |
13-14 |
3 |
| Sea-worn tar, who in the war, The |
14-15 |
3 |
| Dauntless sailor leaves his home, The |
15-16 |
3 |
| Fair Kate of Portsmouth lov'd a tar |
16-17 |
5 |
| Here a sheer hulk, lies poor Tom Bowling |
17-18 |
3 |
| I that once was a ploughman, a sailor am now |
18-19 |
3 |
| 'Twas as underneath a May-blown bush |
20 |
3 |
| Oh! have you my Mary seen |
20-21 |
3 |
| I'v found, my fair, a true-love knot |
21-22 |
3 |
| O'er barren hills and flow'ry dales |
22-23 |
3 |
| While happy in my fair-one's arms |
23-24 |
2 |
| Returning home, across the plain |
24-25 |
3 |
| Whither, my love, ah! whither art thou gone? |
25 |
1 |
| When spring returning decks the groves in glittering array |
25-26 |
3 |
| Where Charles's tide encircling leaves |
26-27 |
2 |
| To be sure I don't love in my heart, now |
27-28 |
3 |
| I'm a dashing dog, you may see that I am |
28-29 |
5 |
| When I had scarcely told sixteen |
29-30 |
3 |
| 'Twas in his vessel sailing |
30-32 |
5 |
| On En[t]ick's green meadows where innocence reigns |
32-33 |
3 |
| My friends all declare that my time is mis-spent |
33 |
4 |
| Ma belle coquette, ah! why disdain |
34-35 |
4 |
| Ah: fashion, wherefore do'st thou still |
35-36 |
3 |
| My name's Tippy Bob, With a watch in each fob |
36-37 |
3 |
| When night, and left upon my guard |
37-38 |
2 |
| I like each girl that I come near |
38-39 |
3 |
| Maid I love who loves not me, A |
39 |
2 |
| Glass is good, and a lass is good, A |
40 |
2 |
| Spangled green confess'd the morn, The |
40-41 |
3 |
| When thirst of gold enslaves the mind |
41-42 |
4 |
| Sweet Laura, see the fatal hour |
42-43 |
3 |
| Why will Laura thus retire |
43-44 |
2 |
| In this sad and silent gloom |
44-45 |
4 |
| When summer smiling bids the hills |
45 |
3 |
| Ye gents, give ear to me I pray |
45-47 |
6 |
| Dapper Ted Tattoo is my natty name |
47-49 |
5 |
| In the world's crooked path, where I've been |
49-50 |
|
| On freedom's happy land |
50 |
3 |
| Western sky was purpl'd o'er, The |
50-51 |
3 |
| In the land of Hibernia young Pat drew his breath |
51-52 |
2 |
| 'Tis not the tint of ruby hue |
52 |
2 |
| Tom Tacle was noble, was true to his word [sic] |
53-54 |
4 |
| When e'er I view the opening dawn |
55 |
3 |
| Let care be a stranger to each jovial soul |
55-57 |
5 |
| Again, my dear friends, since we're met in full glee |
57-58 |
3 |
| Hark! forward's the word, and all join in the chace |
58-59 |
4 |
| One morning in June, all nature did bloom |
59-60 |
2 |
| Let all those who would wish to hear reason |
60-61 |
3 |
| O[f] Columbia's boast the praise be mine |
61-62 |
5 |
| Whilst on those hills I feed my sheep |
62-63 |
4 |
| Young Donald is a bonny lad |
63-64 |
3 |
| Returning spring resumes the groves |
64-65 |
3 |
| In the dead of the night, when, with labour opprest |
65-66 |
6 |
| Dear is my little native vale |
66-67 |
3 |
| When lovers for favors petition |
67 |
2 |
| Such a Tom-boy before I had enter'd my teens |
68-69 |
3 |
| Lark had proclaim'd the new day, The |
69-70 |
3 |
| Kilkardy is a bonny place |
70-71 |
3 |
| Long e'er the tints of rosy day |
71 |
3 |
| Tho' oft we meet severe distress |
71-72 |
3 |
| I tread the borders of the main |
72 |
2 |
| 'Twas at the hour of day's decline |
72-73 |
3 |
| Dear wand'rer, O whither thy steps shall I trace |
73 |
2 |
| Oh, come away |
74 |
5 |
| When in a garden sweet I walk |
75 |
2 |
| How pleas'd within my native bow'rs |
75-76 |
2 |
| From dimpled youth to wrinkled age |
76 |
3 |
| Chilling gale that nip'd the rose, The |
77 |
3 |
| Restrain'd from the sight of my dear |
77-78 |
3 |
| O think on my fate! once I freedom enjoy'd |
78-79 |
3 |
| How sweet when the silver moon is blinking |
79-80 |
2 |
| Zephir come, thou playful minion |
80 |
2 |
| When first I slipp'd my leading strings---to please her little Poll |
80-81 |
4 |
| Sweet inmate---sensibility |
81 |
2 |
| My heart from my bosom would fly |
81-82 |
3 |
| On a mossy bank reclin'd |
82-83 |
2 |
| Chloe, by that borrow'd kiss |
83 |
2 |
| When Fanny I saw, as she trip'd o'er the green [sic] |
83-84 |
2 |
| Let me fly into thy arms |
84 |
3 |
| Why that sadness on thy brow |
84-85 |
3 |
| Celia, by those smiling graces |
85-86 |
3 |
| When Donald first came wooing me |
86-87 |
3 |
| When I was a chit, just got into my teens |
87-88 |
3 |
| Ye youths, wheresoever ye wander so free |
88-89 |
2 |
| Village hind with toil had done, The |
89-90 |
4 |
| Thro' groves sequester'd dark and still |
91 |
2 |
| If truth can fix the wav'ring heart |
91-92 |
2 |
| When all the trees are bare, not a leaf to be seen |
92-93 |
4 |
| I am a jolly gay pedlar |
93-94 |
3 |
| Ned oft' had brav'd the field of battle |
94-95 |
2 |
| Alas!, they've torn my love away |
95-96 |
3 |
| Eve her silver vestment wore, The |
96-97 |
4 |
| Whither my love, ah! whither art thou gone |
97 |
1 |
| Infant spring returns again, The |
97-98 |
|
| Little thinks the townsman's wife |
98-99 |
3 |
| Sweet zephyr tho' 'midst rose-buds playing |
99 |
3 |
| Lovely woman, pride of nature |
99-100 |
3 |
| Tho' late I was plump, round and jolly |
100-101 |
4 |
| Farewell ye groves and chrystal fountains |
101 |
1 |
| Winds, gently tell my love |
101-102 |
2 |
| If your lovers, maids, forsake you |
102 |
4 |
| Our trade to work in clay began |
103-104 |
5 |
| From whom I'm descended, or how I came here |
104-105 |
3 |
| Come, courage, lads, and drink away |
105 |
2 |
| How pleasant a sailor's life passes |
105-106 |
3 |
| Sons of Bacchus lets be gay |
106-107 |
2 |
| Dear sir, this brown jug that now foams with mild ale |
107-108 |
3 |
| My true honest fellows who smoke with such glee |
108-109 |
5 |
| 'Twas past meridian half past four |
110-111 |
12 |
| Come each gallant lad |
112 |
6 |
| I was call'd knowing Joe by the boys of our town |
113-115 |
6 |
| Good people all attend to me, I'll sing you a merry tale, sir |
115-117 |
8 |
| Attention pray give while of hobbies I sing |
118-119 |
7 |
| Return ye raptur'd hours |
120 |
4 |
| 'Twas in Edinborough town I met with a Lad |
120-121 |
3 |
| Come hither, ye youths, and attend to my call |
121-122 |
4 |
| In vain the broom blooms fresh and gay |
122-123 |
4 |
| Cease, rude Boreas, boisterous railer |
123-126 |
18 |
| Sir Solomon Simons, when he did wed |
126-127 |
5 |
| Our immortal poet's page |
127-130 |
8 |
| Fresh and strong the breeze is blowing |
130-131 |
2 |
| Sweet briar grows in the merry green wood, The |
131-132 |
7 |
| Soldier's is the noblest name, A |
132-133 |
3 |
| We soldiers drink, we soldiers sing |
133-134 |
|
| Young Damon has woo'd me a monstrous long time |
134-135 |
3 |
| Hither, Mary, hither come |
135-136 |
3 |
| How stands the glass around |
136-137 |
3 |
| Gallants attend, and hear a friend |
137-140 |
22 |
| Go, patter to lubbers and swabs, d' ye see |
140-142 |
12 |
| While high the foaming surges rise |
142-143 |
3 |
| Fickle bliss, fantastic treasure |
143-144 |
3 |
| Hear me, gallant sailor hear me |
144 |
4 |
| Come, cheer up, my lads, 'tis to glory we steer |
145-146 |
4 |
| Hail, godlike Washington! |
146-149 |
12 |
| Who'd know the sweets of liberty? |
150 |
2 |
| Ye sons of Columbia, who bravely have fought |
150-154 |
9 |
| When first the sun o'er the ocean glow'd |
154-155 |
8 |
| Here's Ichabod has come to town |
155-158 |
10 |
| When discord's bloody flag unfurl'd |
159-160 |
9 |
| Guardians of our nation, stand firm in your station |
160-161 |
6 |
| Hark, hark, the loud drums call the soldiers away |
161-162 |
3 |
| Soldier, a soldier, a soldier for me, A |
162-163 |
3 |
| There was once, it was said, when, is out of my head |
163-167 |
18 |
| Lord, what care I for mam or dad? |
167 |
5 |
| Ye nymphs and swains |
168-169 |
3 |
| If e'er I should learn the sweet passion of love |
169-170 |
3 |
| Did not tyrant custom guide me |
170-171 |
3 |
| Go, tuneful bird, that glads the skies |
171 |
3 |
| Cupid, god of love and joy |
171-172 |
3 |
| From the court to the cottage convey me away |
172-173 |
4 |
| I've kiss'd and I've prattled with fifty fair maids |
173-174 |
4 |
| From night till morn I take my glass |
174 |
2 |
| Sun sets at night, and the stars shun the day, The |
175 |
4 |
| Not long ago how blythe was I! |
176-177 |
4 |
| Forsaken my pipe and my crook |
177 |
3 |
| Farewell, ye green fields and sweet groves |
178 |
3 |
| Rose tree in full bloom, A |
178-179 |
3 |
| Sweet nightingale! queen of the spray |
179 |
2 |
| Since Emma caught my roving eye |
180 |
3 |
| Shall I, like an hermit, dwell |
180-181 |
4 |
| Tho' I am now a very little lad |
181-182 |
3 |
| Cou'd you to battle march away |
183-184 |
3 |
| Rose just bursting into bloom, The |
184 |
2 |
| Few years in the days of my grannam, A |
184-186 |
3 |
| Come, my Sylvia! come and bless |
186 |
4 |
| Songs of Shepherds in sweet roundelays |
187 |
|
| Bright Phoebus has mounted the chariot of day |
189 |
3 |
| At the sound of the horn |
189-190 |
4 |
| Dusky night rides down the sky, The |
191-192 |
6 |
| Ye sportsmen draw near, and ye sportswomen too |
192-193 |
3 |
| 'Twas on the morn of sweet May day |
193-194 |
5 |
| Summer gay, delightful scene, The |
194-195 |
4 |
| In Charles the Second's merry days |
195-197 |
7 |
| Extinguish the candles, give Phoebus fair play |
197-199 |
10 |
| Well met, jolly fellows, well met |
199-200 |
2 |
| To Columbia, who, gladly reclin'd at her ease |
200-203 |
6 |
| Columbia's Bald Eagle displays in his claws |
203-204 |
3 |
| Awake from delusion, ye sons of the brave |
204-205 |
6 |
| Great Washington, the hero's come |
205-208 |
12 |
| Sing Yankee Doodle that fine tune |
208-210 |
14 |
| Come all grenadiers let us join hand in hand |
210-211 |
3 |
| Hail Independence, hail |
211-213 |
7 |
| Heav'ns fav'rite daughter, power devine |
214-215 |
6 |
| Says Plato, why should man be vain? |
215-216 |
3 |
| When first to Helen's lute |
216 |
2 |
| Youth and beauty kindle love |
216 |
1 |
| Roving about, good fellows to meet |
217 |
6 |
| Contented I am, and contented I'll be |
218 |
6 |
| When one's drunk not a girl but looks pretty |
219 |
4 |
| When Jove was resolv'd to create the round earth |
220-221 |
6 |
| No more I'll court the town-bred fair |
221 |
4 |
| Oh ever in my bosom live |
222-223 |
8 |
| When bidden to the wake or fair |
223 |
2 |
| Tuneful lavrocks cheer the grove, The |
224 |
3 |
| Yet a while, sweat sleep, deceive me [sic] |
224 |
1 |
| As in a grot reclin'd |
225-227 |
11 |
| Hail Columbia! happy land |
22 |
4 |
| Poets may sing of their Helicon streams |
229-230 |
6 |
| When Britain with despotic sway |
231-232 |
6 |
| When our great sires this land explor'd |
232-234 |
8 |
| Ye chieftains of Columbia, your forces marshal out |
234-237 |
9 |
| Hark! the clarion's shrill alarms |
237-238 |
3 |
| Columbians all, the present our |
238-239 |
5 |
| Song, a song, is the cry of manind, A |
239-240 |
6 |
| E'er time's great machine was in motion |
241-243 |
5 |
| Almighty sire! our heavenly king |
243-244 |
3 |
| Let Masonry from pole to pole |
244 |
2 |
| E'er God the universe began |
244-245 |
5 |
| Hail Masonry! thou Craft divine! |
246-247 |
6 |
| When Masonry expiring lay, by knaves and fools rejected |
247 |
2 |
| Come let us prepare |
248-250 |
|
| Ye dull stupid mortals give o'er your conjectures |
250-251 |
4 |
| King Solomon that wise projector |
251-253 |
6 |
| Genius of Masonry descend |
253-255 |
5 |
| 'Tis Masonry unites mankind |
255-256 |
7 |
| Mason's daughter fair and young, A |
256-257 |
4 |
| Hail Masonry! thou sacred art |
257 |
2 |
| No sect in the world can with Masons compare |
257-258 |
5 |
| Come, come, my brethren dear |
259-260 |
4 |
| In hist'ry we're told, how the lodges of old |
260-261 |
4 |
| Wake the lute and quiv'ring strings |
261-262 |
4 |
| Hail to the Craft! at whose serene command |
262-264 |
6 |
| Here social love serenely smiles |
264 |
3 |
| So much of Masonry's been sung |
265 |
5 |
| Bacchus open all thy treasure |
266 |
4 |