The Royal Minstrel: Or, Melodist's Pocket Songster; a Choice Collection of Standard and Popular SongsJ.S. Pratt, 1844 - 320 Seiten |
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Ergebnisse 1-5 von 34
Seite 11
... white blossom'd sloe ib . When first I saw Flora 130 When Phoebus wakes A woman loves the ruffled sea Primroses deck the bank . 131 Let others breathe the melting ib . 132 133 PAGE . A rose from her bosom 134 An actor's CONTENTS . 11.
... white blossom'd sloe ib . When first I saw Flora 130 When Phoebus wakes A woman loves the ruffled sea Primroses deck the bank . 131 Let others breathe the melting ib . 132 133 PAGE . A rose from her bosom 134 An actor's CONTENTS . 11.
Seite 13
... breathing spring Farewell thou fair day .. 176 177 178 ib . 179 .. Blue Peter at the mast head flew 180 Och ! love is the soul 181 The topsails shiver in the wind 182 A maiden there lived .. 183 Had I a heart for falsehood framed 185 Ye ...
... breathing spring Farewell thou fair day .. 176 177 178 ib . 179 .. Blue Peter at the mast head flew 180 Och ! love is the soul 181 The topsails shiver in the wind 182 A maiden there lived .. 183 Had I a heart for falsehood framed 185 Ye ...
Seite 26
... breath'd a prayer for him , a prayer he could not hear , But he paus'd to bless her as she knelt , and wip'd away a tear . He turn'd and left the spot - oh ! do not deem him weak , For dauntless was the soldier's heart , though tears ...
... breath'd a prayer for him , a prayer he could not hear , But he paus'd to bless her as she knelt , and wip'd away a tear . He turn'd and left the spot - oh ! do not deem him weak , For dauntless was the soldier's heart , though tears ...
Seite 42
... breath , Not an object her fears could discover ; All was still as the silence of death , Save fancy , which painted her lover , Far , far at sea . So she whispered a prayer - clos'd her eyes , But the phantom still haunted her pillow ...
... breath , Not an object her fears could discover ; All was still as the silence of death , Save fancy , which painted her lover , Far , far at sea . So she whispered a prayer - clos'd her eyes , But the phantom still haunted her pillow ...
Seite 59
... breaths in his senses , Fine pickings he'll find on the bone , very week day I feast upon parish expenses , And on Sunday I feast at my own . [ Spoken . ] - Because - why's why ; and I takes are the parish shall come down a little , for ...
... breaths in his senses , Fine pickings he'll find on the bone , very week day I feast upon parish expenses , And on Sunday I feast at my own . [ Spoken . ] - Because - why's why ; and I takes are the parish shall come down a little , for ...
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Andere Ausgaben - Alle anzeigen
Häufige Begriffe und Wortgruppen
Adieu Bay of Biscay beauty blest blooming blow body kiss bonny bosom brave breast breath bright Brown Bess Captain charms cheek cheer Crazy Jane cried dear delight Derry drink e'er fair flower Fol deriddle lol friends gale gallant girl grog hark heart heaven Heigh Invermay John Anderson jolly kiss lady lark lass lassie life's live lov'd lover maid Mary merry mild ale Miss Rum Molly Malone morn ne'er never night o'er pleasure poor POST CAPTAIN pretty Rag Fair rest thee ring roar rose round Rum tum diddle-um sail sailors shore sigh sing sleep smile soft song soon sorrow soul storm sure sweet sweetly tears tell there's thou thought tis love Tol de rol true Twas twill vex'd whistle wife wind wine young youth
Beliebte Passagen
Seite 24 - John Anderson my jo. John Anderson my jo, John, We clamb the hill thegither ; And mony a canty day, John, We've had wi' ane anither : Now we maun totter down, John, But hand in hand we'll go, And sleep thegither at the foot, John Anderson my jo.
Seite 304 - By the struggling moonbeam's misty light, And the lantern dimly burning. No useless coffin enclosed his breast, Not in sheet nor in shroud we wound him; But he lay like a warrior taking his rest, With his martial cloak around him.
Seite 28 - OUR band is few but true and tried, Our leader frank and bold ; The British soldier trembles When Marion's name is told. Our fortress is the good greenwood, Our tent the cypress-tree ; We know the forest round us, As seamen know the sea.
Seite 62 - They name thee before me, A knell to mine ear; A shudder comes o'er me — Why wert thou so dear ? They know not I knew thee, Who knew thee too well: — Long, long shall I rue thee, Too deeply to tell.
Seite 186 - O' my sweet Highland Mary. How sweetly bloom'd the gay green birk, How rich the hawthorn's blossom, As underneath their fragrant shade I clasp'd her to my bosom ! The golden hours on angel wings Flew o'er me and my dearie; For dear to me as light and life Was my sweet Highland Mary. Wi' mony a vow and lock'd embrace Our parting was fu' tender; And pledging aft to meet again, We tore oursels asunder; But, Oh!
Seite 71 - Of all the girls that are so smart There's none like pretty Sally ; She is the darling of my heart, And she lives in our alley. There is no lady in the land Is half so sweet as Sally ; She is the darling of my heart, And she lives in our alley.
Seite 167 - The cord slides swiftly through his glowing hands. And quick as lightning on the deck he stands. So the sweet lark, high poised in air. Shuts close his pinions to his breast (If, chance, his mate's shrill call he hear), And drops at once into her nest. The noblest captain in the British fleet Might envy William's lip those kisses sweet.
Seite 63 - They know not I knew thee Who knew thee too well: Long, long shall I rue thee Too deeply to tell. In secret we met: In silence I grieve That thy heart could forget, Thy spirit deceive. If I should meet thee After long years, How should I greet thee ?— With silence and tears.
Seite 29 - Then sweet the hour that brings release From danger and from toil; We talk the battle over, And share the battle's spoil. The woodland rings with laugh and shout, As if a hunt were up, And woodland flowers are gathered To crown the soldier's cup.
Seite 304 - We thought, as we hollowed his narrow bed, And smoothed down his lonely pillow, That the foe and the stranger would tread o'er his head, And we far away on the billow ! Lightly they'll talk of the spirit that's gone, And o'er his cold ashes upbraid him ; But little hell reck if they let him sleep on In the grave where a Briton has laid him...