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 Dan DeVere's 
 
 COMIC AND SENTIMENTAL 
 
 SONG-BOOK. 
 
 l^y^r^ \ ^^^^y; 
 
 HUDSON'S CALIFORNIAN 
 
 i And NORTH and SOUTH 
 
 ; AMERICAN CIRCUS. 
 
 
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COMIC AND SENTIMENTAL 
 
 SONG-BOOK 
 
 First, R-A-T— spells Mouse, I know, 
 
 And S-U-M-is total, 
 U-O-O-K — stands for crow, 
 
 And F-L-Y— blue bottle. 
 l*-I-G — is our old sow, 
 
 And F-A-T — spells grease, 
 H-U-I.-L — stands for cow, 
 
 And D-U-C-K— for geesr. 
 
 <.'nours.— Then who beats me at A-B-C ; 
 
 For I never mutter, stutter m a flutter, 
 For they all declare, that I'am all tliere, 
 That's my form at A-B-C ; then 
 
 A fU • I) E F G H IJ K L M N O P <i R S T U V W X Y Z. 
 
 That's all out of ray fat head. 
 
 <»-N-A-T,— spells busy bee, 
 
 And G-I-R-L— daughter ; 
 And M-I L-K, — now Yet me see. 
 
 Why, that spells chalk and water. 
 U-U-M— 'tis something queer, , 
 
 That make most people merry ; 
 P-O-P — is ginger beer, 
 
 And G-I-N— spells sherry chord's. 
 
 C-K-Y — spells shed a tear, 
 
 S-I-N-G — is shout hard, 
 Tl-E-N — a curious bird, 
 
 Called rooster in a barn-yarii. 
 r. A-S-T — means steady and slow, 
 
 -O-L-B — means shy ; 
 I- - >|[-G— is rather tall, 
 
 0,1, how is that for high. ' chojrus. 
 
 56775 
 
If ever I f oasf to lovci 
 
 la a house, in a S([uaru, in a (luadrant, 
 
 In a street, in a lane, in a road ; 
 Turn to the left, on the riyht hand 
 
 Yon see there my true love's abode. 
 I ^o there a courting and cooing, 
 
 To my love, like a dove, 
 And swearing on my bended knee, 
 
 If ever I cease to love, 
 May sheepa heads grow on api)le trees, 
 If ever I cease to love. 
 
 CHORUS.— If ever I cease to love. 
 
 If ever I cease to love — 
 
 May the moon be turn'd into giecn cheese 
 
 If ever I cease to love. 
 
 yhe can sing, she can play the piano. 
 
 She can jump, she can dance, she can run, 
 In fact, she's a modern Taglioni 
 
 And Sims Ileeves rolled into one. 
 And who would not love such a })eauty, 
 
 Like an angel dropped from above. 
 May I be stung to death with Hies 
 
 If ever I cease to love. 
 May I be stung to death with Hies 
 
 If ever I cease to love. 
 
 • HOKUs. — If ever I cease to love, 
 If ever I cease to love. 
 May little dogSAvag their tails in front. 
 If ever 1 cease to love. 
 
 For all the money that's in the bank. 
 
 For the tittle of a Lord or Duke, 
 i wouldn't exchange the girl I love. 
 
 There's bliss in every look ; 
 To see her dance the polka 
 
 I could faint with raidant love ; 
 May the monument a hornj)ipo dance 
 
 If ever I cease to love. 
 May we never have to pay the income tax 
 
 If ever I cease to love. 
 
 moRUS. — If ever I cease to love, 
 
 If ever I cease to love — 
 . . May little dogs wag their tails in front 
 
 •^ L- If ever J cease to lo vo. 
 
-3- 
 
 May all the seas turn into ink, 
 
 May negroes all turn white, 
 May the President in the White House live 
 
 May we drink too much wine to-night. 
 May cows lay eggs, may fowls yiehl milU, 
 
 May the elephant turn a dove, 
 May Bobbies refuse to eat cold meat 
 
 Jf ever 1 cease to love. 
 May I be stufied with sausage meat 
 
 If ever I ceased to love. 
 
 Chorus. — If ever I cease to love, 
 If ever I cease to love — 
 May each old maid be blessed with twins, 
 If ever 1 cease to love. 
 
 Parody ou You'll Reiiieniber. 
 
 Oh, listen to a story sad. 
 
 About a girl named May ; 
 My peace of mind was no'er disturbed, 
 
 'I'ill a chap popped in the May. 
 For she was as lovely as the morn. 
 
 At lived at Tennessee, 
 And I always though upon life, 
 That she would remember mc, 
 
 That she'd remember me. 
 
 One lovely night, wlien the stars shone bright, 
 
 Towards her house I strolled, 
 When in the parlor there I saw, 
 
 A chap a sitting bold. 
 Into the room then I rushed, 
 
 With rage could scarcely see, 
 And as I punched him on the nose, 
 
 I said, '* now you'll remember me." 
 Now you'll remember me. 
 
 He called police, the cops they camo, 
 
 He told them what I'd done ; 
 And then before the Magistrate, 
 
 Of course, I had to come. 
 The Judge with one eye on his book, 
 
 From me he would take no fee ; 
 And as he sentenced me six months, 
 
 He said, ** now you'll remember me.'' 
 Now you'll remember me. 
 
Tliat^s Hliere you make llie luisfake. 
 
 Some folks think they're awfully clever, 
 
 That other folks arc all but fools ; 
 Some people will often endeavor 
 
 To make other ])eople their tools, 
 Some people will boast of their knowledge, 
 
 And fancy they're well wide awake, 
 That none are so deep or so cute as themselves-- 
 And that's where they make the mistake. 
 'J'here's just as good fish in the sea, bear in miiul, 
 
 As any we manage to take, 
 So don't be too proud, and don't croAv too loud. 
 For there's where you make the mistake. 
 
 When courting don't write spooney letters 
 
 To the fair one, for love or for sport, 
 For should you but break any promise. 
 
 They are sure to be read out in Court ; 
 When you wed do not wed the whole family. 
 
 You'll find 'twill not Paradise make, 
 Above all close the door to your mother-in-laAV — 
 Or there's where you'll make the mistake'. 
 But speakiii}^ of marriage reminds me in time, 
 
 My girl's just give me the shake, 
 Slice fancied I'd give her a gold watch and chain, 
 But there's wliere she made the mistake. 
 
 Don't imagine a man has no money 
 
 Because he's not dressed as a swell, 
 A book, with an old worn-out cover 
 
 May have a good story to tell ; 
 A swell that's all cuffs and paper collars, 
 To his finger tips white as snow flake, 
 But if you believe lie's all over alike — 
 Why there's where you make the mistake. 
 The ladies all wear an abundance of hair, 
 'Tis a wonder their dear necks don't break, 
 But if you imagine they grow it themselves, 
 Why there's where you make the mistake. 
 
 Don't Imagine your milk is not watered, 
 
 Or pure is you two shilling tea, 
 Don't imagine its awfully jolly 
 
 The first time you go out to sea ; 
 Don't reckon your chicks before hatching, or 
 Your ducks may perhaps turn out drakes ; 
 If you think Johnny Bull won't pay the Alabama claims, 
 Why there's where you make the mistake. 
 But I fancy with all the advice that I've given 
 
 Yon must be well wide-awake, 
 And if you imagine I'll sing any more, 
 
 Why there's where you'll make the mi.stake. 
 
— .> - 
 
 You iD^rer Miss tiic water Hiii (lie well ruus dryi 
 
 Whon a chill I livod at Fjiiicoln, with my pavontin at the farm, 
 The lessons that my mother taught to me were quite a charm, 
 She would oftou take me on h^Sr knee, when tired of childish play. 
 And as she pressed me to her breast, IVo hoard my mother say: 
 
 CHORUS. 
 
 Waste not, want not, it is the maxim I wpuld teach, 
 
 Let your watchword be dispatch, and practice what you preach ; 
 
 Do not let your chances like sumbeans pass you by, 
 
 For you never mis the water till the well runs dry. 
 
 As years roU'd on I grew to bo a mischief-making boy ; 
 Destruction scem'd my only sport, it was my only joy. 
 And well do I remember, with ofttimes well chastised 
 How father sat beside me then, and thus has me advised. 
 
 Chorus. — Waste not, want not, etc. 
 
 When I arrived at manhood, I embarked in public life. 
 
 And found it was a rugged road, btatrewn with sare and strife ; 
 
 I speculated foolishly, my losses were severe, 
 
 But still a tiny little voice kept whispering in my ear. 
 
 Chorus. — Waste not, want not, etc. 
 
 Then I studied strict ecoromy, and found to my surprise. 
 My funds, instead of sinking, very quickly then did rise, 
 I grasp'd each chance and always struck the iron while'twas hot, 
 I seiz'd my opportunities, and never once forgot. 
 
 Choru.s. — Waste not, want not, etc. 
 
 I'm married now and happy, I've a careful little wife. 
 We live in peace and harmony, devoid of car» and strife, 
 Fortune smiles upon us, we have little children three. 
 The lesson that I teach them as they prattle round my kueo. 
 
 Chorus. — Waste not, want not, etc. 
 
 ■:o: 
 
 Meet uie5 Josie at the gate. 
 
 words and music by GKOROE M. CLARK. 
 
 Wilt thou meet me to-night at the old garden gate ? 
 
 Meet me there, for I've something sweet to say. 
 And 1 long to meet you there, where so oft we've met before. 
 
 Ere I leave you to wander far away. 
 Meet me there, meet me true, for I've words of love for you ; 
 
 Then come, for the hour is growing late, 
 
An«l I'll whinprr in your oar Romothin;^8\voot loryoil to hear, 
 tr il you'll moct mo, bailing .Ionic, at tho gate. 
 
 riioRus. 
 Moet me there, at tho }i'xin, 
 
 ^VUt thou moot, inoet ino at tho gate, at tlie gate .' 
 Anrl I'll whisper in your oar somothing sweot for you to hear, 
 
 If you'll meet me, darling Josie, at the gate. 
 
 f am going far away from the oM garden gate, 
 
 And periiapa wo may never meet again, 
 But I'll ever think of you, and my heart will beat as true 
 
 As the sun, no matter where I roam. 
 Do not grieve, darling o 10, though I'm going far away, 
 
 But come, nor repine at cruel fato, 
 And I'll whisper in your ear something sweet for you lo hear, 
 
 If you'll meet me, darling Josio, at the gate. 
 
 Meet me there, etc. 
 
 I will staiil by my rrieiid* 
 
 As we travel on through life's career, 
 
 How many have to rough it, 
 While one gives a welcome hand, 
 
 A dozen try to buft' it. 
 Then let's be faithful when we ca!i, 
 
 A helping hand to lend. 
 My maxim is, let come what may, 
 
 I will stand by my friend. 
 
 My maxim is, let come what may, 
 I will stand by my friend. 
 
 Wiieu well to do in life, we all 
 
 A ready welcome get ; 
 It's how do you do to-day, old boy, 
 
 I'm glad that we have met. 
 Dut if in our career through life. 
 
 Bad luck does us attend, 
 Not one will give a hand and say 
 
 I will stand by my friend. 
 Not one will give a hand and say, 
 
 I will stand by my friend. 
 
 A friend in need is one indeed 
 
 His heart and hand he lends ; 
 How different when w« have to say — 
 
 Oh, save us from our friends. 
 With many, friendships but a name. 
 
 No sympathy they lend j 
 They bid good day, but never say, 
 
 I will stand by my friend. 
 They bid good day, but never say, 
 
 I will stand by my friend. 
 
-7- 
 Tlic kiss behind (lie door. 
 
 «>nc» I was ni gay as ii jolly cook sparrou, 
 
 \Vho'8 percliM upon ati applo troo, or down amongst the corn ; 
 }\nt now olean throu^jli my lioart, you couhl drive a large wheel- 
 b'lrrow, 
 
 For my lovo li-\s left a hole in it, Oh I where'8 Rosannagone ! 
 
 Chori's. 
 
 I shall never kins my love again belli n i the kitcho.i door, 
 I shall never squeeze my darling's little linger any m<»re, 
 And she'll ne'er pinch my funny-hone, untd it'ii rather acre, 
 0, whorc'a Ilosanna gone ? 
 
 I'm sure no other maid would e<|ual my Roaanna. 
 
 Without my love this manly form will soon become a wreck. 
 Of her dad I was afiaid, he's a desagreable tanner, 
 
 And he's often promised faithful'y, he'd dislocate my neck. 
 
 So T used to kiss Roaanna, just behind the kitchen door, 
 But I ne'er shall squeeze my darling'ti little linger any more, 
 And she'll ne'er pinch my funny bone until it's rather sore, 
 O, Where's Rosanna gone / 
 
 Of an evening after tea, while her dadly blew his • baccer,' 
 I'd seek my love Roaanna and ask her to share my lot ; 
 
 Hut when he found it out, oh my I how he would whack her, 
 While I'd jumb over the garden wall as tho' I'd been shot. 
 
 1 shall never kiss my lov« again, etc. 
 
 1 'd jumb'd over the wall one night, in search of sweet Rosanna, 
 And though 1 gently whistled, my love did not appear ; 
 
 r»ut ray hair stood bolt upright, for out eame herdad, the tanner, 
 Oh ! my teeth they rattled like dominoes and my legs doubled 
 up with fear. 
 
 Spoken — At tho end of our interview, I felt convinced that 
 hf! understood what tamiing was, and so did 1. I also concluded 
 
 I should never kiss my love again, etc. 
 
 Some say she's did away, by her cruel dad on purpose 
 
 To cure her of her love for me ; some say my love's no more, 
 if she's defunct, then soon shall they find my clay cold corpus, 
 And our ghosts shall come and frighten hor dad behind the 
 kitchen door. 
 
 I shall never kiss my love again, etc. 
 
 Clown's Good Advice. — Do not choose your friend by his 
 looks ! handsome shoes often pinch the feet. 
 
-8- 
 I'ourtiug in llio Uaiih 
 
 One april morn, when walkin^j down 
 
 A ([uiet conutry lane, 
 I overtook a fair young girl, 
 
 White hurrying thro the rain. 
 I asked her ** If she would accept 
 
 My arm, and take a share 
 Of my umbrella," "Thanks, kind sir, 
 
 I will," replied the fair. 
 
 Spokex. — One with golden lock3, by Jove, and without one 
 of these useful articles, (holding up an Umbrella,) when she 
 popp'd her little arm in mine, my hea^t beat to that degree it 
 nearly dislocated my libs, (of the umbrello I mean,] it's a fact 1 
 thought to myself here's a chance to go — 
 
 Chorus. 
 Courting in the rain, courting in the rain, 
 I ne'er regret the day I met, my charmer in the lane. 
 Courting in the rain, courting in the rain, 
 "J'was sweeter far than moon or star, whilst courting Mary Jane. 
 
 The rain pourred down alarmingly, 
 
 When to a tree we came. 
 And shelter took beneath it, 
 
 There 1 quickly learnt her name. 
 She also told nie where she livtd, 
 
 With pa down at the farm, 
 A farmer's daughter ; well said I, v 
 
 That is an extra charm. 
 
 .Spoken. — I glory in country life, and a farmer's daughter, 
 what could be better, I wish'd the i ain would keep on as I 
 rather liked — 
 
 Courting, etc. 
 At length the rain abated. 
 
 And the sun shone out quite bright, 
 The little birds began to sing 
 
 My heart it felt so light. 
 I gently pressed her arm in mine, 
 And said now don't say "nay," 
 But let me come and meet you here, 
 Again some other day. 
 
 Spoken. — Well she said I can't exactly decide, you must ask 
 my pa, so I made up my mind to go and inform the old gentle- 
 maud we'd been — 
 
 Courting, etc. 
 We reached the old farm house, and then 
 
 She introduced to me, ^ 
 
 Her pa, a jolly nice old boy, 
 With him I made quite free ; 
 
- [) - 
 
 1 told him when and where I'd met, 
 
 His daughter in tlie rain, 
 And blessed the lucky chance that lo;»U 
 
 Me down tliat country lane. 
 
 .Si'OKEy. — The old gentleman wa^ quite delighte<l with my 
 kind attention, and I soon gain'd his consent, which proves the 
 truth of the old proverb — '* It never rains but it poura,"and so 
 
 it occured to me through 
 
 Courting, etc. 
 
 •:o:- 
 
 V\\ meet tlicf^ Darling Katie, Bye and Bye 
 
 WORDS ANlJ musk; BV (JEOROE M. CLARK. 
 
 They have made her a grave by the brooksido, 
 
 Near the stream where the wild (lowers wave, 
 Where the rose and the low drooping willow. 
 
 Keep their lonely watch over darling Katie's grave. 
 The days come and go, dearest Katie, 
 
 While thy spirit dwells on high, 
 AVhore I'll meet thee, darling Katie : 
 And I know that thou wil*t greet me, 
 
 When I meet thee, darling Katie, bye an 1 hye. 
 
 I have wan<'cred to-day by the brookside. 
 
 Near the stream where wild flowers wave; 
 And have gathered the sweetost of roses, 
 
 And have strewed them o'er my darling Katie's grav 
 While I stood by thy grave, dearest Katie, 
 
 From my bosom there came a sigh, 
 To meet thee, Darling Katie : 
 For I Know that thou wil't greet me. 
 
 When I meet thee, darling Katie, bye an I l)ye. 
 
 :o: 
 
 Husbandp and letter-paper should be well ruled. 
 
 A man of words and not of deeds, is like a garden full of weeds. 
 
 If a woman were as little as she is good, a i)ca shell would 
 make her a gown and a hood. 
 
 In times of prosperity, friends will be plenty ; in times of 
 adversity, not one in twenty. 
 
 If you wish to get rich, get married ; when was ever honey 
 made with one bee in the hive ? 
 
 Among 10,0000.' persons one arrives at the age of 100 years ; 
 one in 500, the agu of 90 ; and onu in a bundled lives to the 
 age of 00. ' 
 
-10- 
 Never push a man because lie*s going dOMU (he liill. 
 
 In this sensation century 
 
 (^ood songs are very few, 
 'I'lie wouU are little cared for 
 
 If the music is^but new ; 
 The subjects, too, are nearly dont?, 
 
 But 1 have found one still, 
 Never push a man because 
 
 He's going down tlie hill. 
 
 (iroRus. 
 
 Then help one another, boys, if fortune on you shine, 
 Remember when you give your mite that poverty's no crime, 
 Though little be the olf'ring, boys, give it with good will, 
 -And never push a man because he's going down the hill. 
 
 In this wide world there's many a man 
 
 With a truly honest heart, 
 To raise his wife and family 
 
 In business makes a start. 
 But still his ends don't seem to meet, 
 
 Work which way he will, 
 Fate seems to be against him 
 
 And he's going down the hill c 
 
 CHORUS. — Then heli)h one another, t't<j. 
 
 As we jog along in daily life, 
 
 How many men we find. 
 That poverty's a grievous sin 
 
 To think they are inclined. 
 They meet in sad adversity 
 
 Some old friend, Tom or Bill, 
 And pass him by disdainfully, 
 
 And push him down the hill. 
 
 CHORUS. — Then help one another, etc. 
 
 a 
 
 V 
 
 \i e'er you meet an honest man, 
 
 Struggling Hard with fate, 
 Don't speak words of discouragement, ^ 
 
 Or tell him'tia "too late." 
 Dont sneer as you pass him by, ^^ 
 
 But help him with a will, ^ 
 
 And p'raps some day you'll find him, 
 
 On the summit of the hill. 
 
 CHORUS, — Then help one another, etc. 
 
11- 
 
 iMoflier says 1 miisu'h ♦ 
 
 J fell in lovo Avith a pretty giil 
 
 A few Bliort years ago. 
 All sorts of weather, hail or rain. 
 
 To court her 1 would go ; 
 r«l long and sigh with love until 
 
 'Twas time to be away, 
 And when 1 aske I a parting kiss, 
 
 She alwaps used to say — 
 
 |.'horis, — mother says I musn't, mother 8ay>i I musn't, 
 George, please George, don't ask yet awhile. 
 Mother says I musn't, mother says 1 musn't, 
 
 George, don't George, not just yet. 
 
 1 waiting kept — at last one day 
 I thought I'd know my fate, 
 
 I sunk upon my knees in quite 
 
 An agonizing state, 
 *' Selina say you'll have your George, 
 
 And when shall we be wed." 
 I long'd to hear my love's reply, 
 
 Ami this is what she .said — 
 
 Si'oKEN. — Well, Gjorgo, dear, you're very kinnd, but %ve 
 do lid never live on two hundred a year, so until you are worth 
 at least live hundred per annum, darling- - 
 
 Mother, says 1 musn't, etc. 
 
 From then I went to work, l>y Jove 1 
 
 1 left no stone unturned, 
 Until iivc hundred pounds a year, 
 
 At last I really earned ; 
 Selina heard hiw things had changed, 
 
 And when we met one day. 
 She seemed so pleasant, and a*, last 
 
 She lovingly did say — 
 
 Si'oKEN. — You remember, George dear, what 1 said when 
 you ask«d me some time ago ; well, («eorge dear, as you have 
 *9 improved in circumstances, suppose you ask me now, Geor- 
 ;» y I'orgey, darling ? eh, what say ? Well, said I, upon consi- 
 turation, you're very kind, but — 
 
 JlioKUS. — Mother says I musn't, mother says I. musn't, 
 
 O dear, please dear, not jiist j^et awhile ; 
 Vfother says I musn't, mother says I musn't, 
 
 No dear, I can't dear, not just yet. 
 
 Give me the girl who loves a man, 
 
 And loves him for himself, 
 Whose first consideration is not 
 
 \Vh*t he's worth in poll'. 
 
All sordid minded damsels M'ho 
 
 May worshsp (loldeu dross, 
 May they 1»e old maids 'lill they die, 
 
 And we'll never Lei llieir losffs. 
 
 ^i'oKKN.-.So 'adiea who don't waiit to be old maids, mind 
 you don't once too often sa;,^ — 
 
 Mother says 1 musn't, etc. 
 
 ■:o; 
 
 Wby didn't you say so Uel'ore. 
 
 New by-words you know now-a«day.s are the rago, 
 
 You'll hear them from every tongue ; 
 Wherever yon go you'll iind that it's S'>, 
 
 The little, the big, old and young ; 
 I'uvon the ladies are fo d of the slang, 
 
 While the boys in the street lou.lly roir, 
 Oh, how they do shout, the latest one o.it, 
 
 WHiy didn't you say so before ! 
 
 One day driven mad with a toothache so ba I, 
 
 I lushed to vhe lira doctor's shop, 
 When the grinder he eyed and the tongs he applie 1, 
 
 And he pulled me six times round the shop ; 
 Said T, AVhen he'd tlone, you've pu'led out the wrong one. 
 
 While with agony loud I did roar ; 
 Now it's done, sir, says ho, the fault don't lay w.th me ; 
 
 Why didn't you say ho before ! 
 
 I oneo asked a friend me ten dollars to lend, 
 
 And said, I'd return it next day ; 
 Wlien he did begin at once to rub his chin, 
 
 And these words, unto me he did say : 
 Old boy, it's too bad, 1 sliould have been glad. 
 
 In fact, I'd have let you have more 
 Had you called yesterday, — now, it's all paid a vay, 
 
 W^jy didn't you say so before ? 
 
 My wife yesterday sat crying away, 
 
 Because our lirst-born was a boy ; 
 All day she woiild sigh ; nd keep rubbiog In r eyr, 
 
 Instead of being happy with joy ; 
 Says she to me, Jpe, 1 hate boys, you 1 now, 
 
 I'd sooner of girls have a score ; 
 ►Says I (with a leer) it's too late, i o v, my dear, 
 
 Why didu't you sav so before I 
 
Speak well of the absriil. 
 
 Speivk woll of tho al)sent, why shouM mc us« 
 
 The tongue that with kindness shoukl How, 
 Owr noighboi'a good deedw to defame or ahiiso, 
 
 Or his faults and his failings to show ? 
 Sj)eak well of the absent, seek not to make known 
 
 Tiie defects wliich in others you spy ! 
 I'oniembcr, my friends, you have faults of your own, 
 
 Which you would not the world should descry. 
 
 Speak Avell of tho absent, speak well, 
 
 Speak well, speak well of the aljsent, speak well. 
 
 Speak well of the absent, tho' faults there may be, 
 
 Cast o'er them tlie mantle of love ; 
 And where virtues exist, then be candid and free. 
 
 Nor condemn when you ought to approve. 
 S[)eak well of the absent, jest not with his fame, 
 
 t^et not mirth against kindness odend : 
 I'oware of the man who would injure the name. 
 
 Or Avould sport with the wounds of a friend. 
 
 Speak well of the absent, speak well, 
 
 Speak well, s])eak well of the absent, speak well. 
 
 :o: 
 
 An!iie*s Grave. 
 
 WOKDS AND MUSIC BY (iEOUCE M. CLAllK. 
 
 I rejnembcr well tho time, though 'twas many years ;igo, 
 
 When J wooed and won the love of dear Annie ; 
 <>h, tho time Avent swiftly by like a sweet gliding stream. 
 
 For my young licart was happy, light and free, 
 liut that happy time is passed, and my hair is turning gray. 
 
 For that loved one I never more shall see, 
 And my iicart is s;id and lone, as 1 weep from day to day, 
 Since dear Annie i ^ no longer here with me. 
 CiiDiu's. — Oil, Annie, dear Aimie, 
 
 'I'hou ait laid where the tall willows' wave, 
 And my heart is sad and lonely, 
 Yes, my heart is sad and lonely. 
 As 1 weep o'er dear Annie's grave. 
 
 ''I'was a bright ;nid sunny morning in the autumn of the ye.ir, 
 
 When they told me that I'd lost dear Annie ; 
 That her swctt ;\'u\ gentle voice I never more should hoar, 
 
 Or her winniu : smiles sliould beam no more on me. 
 1 ^\ a little groc!! . do Avhore the sweet flowers bloom, 
 
 Near the sp>L v. here the tall willows wave, 
 '! ijey kavo lai ! 'i tr there to rest, and my heait is sid lone, 
 
 ',\^ I weep <> ir t|c'4r Auuic's grave. Oh, Annie, &c, 
 
14 
 
 •< McasiiiT your wauls J>} your iMcans 
 
 •« 
 I 
 
 I once licaitl a prf)vorb, \v(titii 'j^iaving in iiold. 
 
 "I'was spoken in years that arc past, 
 Anil he too is gone, who made it his own, 
 
 But while there's a worhl it will last. 
 The Haying was pithy, it'd meaning was this - 
 
 W'liichever way rrovidencc leans, 
 11" wiiat fortnno grants, won't come up to ynur v.anlf, 
 
 \'<>u must hring down your wants to your means. 
 
 C.'iiORr.s. 
 
 .^o think oi' my S(uig as you journey along, 
 
 Thro' lite and its changeable seencs. 
 It' your wants prove too high, for your means to sii[)[>ly, 
 
 Why bring down your wants to your means. 
 
 How often we see the gay man of the world. 
 
 With money and plenty to spare, 
 hid he use it aright, but he puts it to llight, 
 
 And appears as tho' short of his share. 
 Tlum he pays tw^enty shillings to borrow a pound, 
 
 'Till his folly no longer he screens, 
 Thus he parts with his wealth lo.ses station and health, 
 
 Thro' his wants over-running his means. 
 
 t5o think of my song, el(\ 
 
 Tlio rough handed ploughman, up early an<l lato, 
 
 Whose days with haid toil are beset. 
 It' he's scanty of clothe.^, it is nothing he owes, 
 
 So he's richer than him who's in debt. 
 ViH' if homely his fare, he is happy withal, 
 
 Tlio' it's little from learning he gleans, 
 And ho never needs run from a bailiff or dun, 
 
 For he measures liis wants by his means. 
 
 So think of my song, etc. 
 
 Then ye who have little, and ye who have much, 
 
 Enjoy wliat you've got in content ; 
 >ior squander j'our store and your health getting nuu-e, 
 
 Live right, and you'll never- repont. 
 This world is a garden with pleasure well lillM, 
 
 Tho' sorrow sometimes intervenes, 
 fhit troubles will lly, as the clouds drifting l»y. 
 
 If you "measure your wants bj' your means." 
 
 So think of my song, etc. 
 
 :o: 
 
 In 1,000 persons, 95 many, and more marriages occur in June, 
 and December than in any other month of tho year. 
 One eighth of the Avhole population is military. 
 
-15- 
 Bebiiid the scenes. 
 
 When but a little boy, oh, it really was my joy 
 
 To visit the theatre I'll atlmit, 
 How happy I couM be, the performances to see. 
 
 While seated in the gallery or pit. 
 I fancied all was real, that the curtain did reveal, 
 
 But since that 1 have passed beyond my teens ; 
 j begin to underatand, tho'in front it may look gram I, 
 
 'Tis very difl"'rent just " behind tlie scenes." 
 So if you will attend for a moment now my fi iendu, 
 
 I'll do the best within my huml>lo means. 
 To show to you to-night, tho' in front it mny look bright 
 
 ' Tis very diirrent just " behind the scenes.'' 
 
 The comedian is one, who while causing lots of fun. 
 
 iiis heart may yet hang iiaavy in his breast, 
 And the man who plays the King, tho' itsiioins a curious tiling, 
 
 In private may be very poorly dreat. 
 The ladies too— so fair, who go rtoating througii th^ air. 
 
 And look like little angels th^are instead. 
 Sometimes have to roam unto a wretche<l home, 
 
 And oftentimes go suppcrle^s to bed ; 
 While those wiio play the parts of the men with stony hearts, 
 
 And look as if their tempers wore like tiends, 
 Could you see them while away, you'd very likely say. 
 
 They're the mildest looking men "behind the scenes." 
 
 'Tis just the same in life, for what lots of care and strife, 
 
 And suffering some folks Avill undergo, 
 Just to cut a shine, and to make themselves look line, 
 
 And think of nothing else but outside show ; 
 They fancy and suppose, that those who wear good clothes, 
 
 Always look thj richest and the best ; 
 Rut an honest heart and mind is respected most you'll fini], 
 
 No matter whether poor or richly di'est. 
 Still many a one you know have caused themselves much woe, 
 
 Through trying hartl to live beyond their means, 
 And though they wear a smile, yot really all the while. 
 
 They are very wretched just " behind the scones.?' 
 
 There's many a married pair, I've no doubt you are aware, 
 
 Who in public are so tender and so kind. 
 But could you only see them at home in privacy, 
 A verj'^ difterent state of things you'd find. 
 Sometimes it is tlie Avife who's the cause of all tin atrift: ; 
 Sometimes it is the husband who's to blame ; 
 Let that be how it mry who causes all the fray, 
 
 Their quarrelling coutinues just the same. 
 
Yet still they try to hid«, from all tho world outiiitl*!, 
 The snarls and jars M'ith wliich their lionsehold teeniM. 
 
 And often when you iiear tlieni call each other dear, 
 They hate eacli other, just *'behinu the scenes." 
 
 The wealthy and the great, who can ride aboit in htat'', 
 
 And have a host of wealth at tiieir command, 
 Have, you may be sure, as many troubles to enilure 
 
 As tliose who are the humblest in tlie land ! 
 For England's greatest Sage say?, " ail thi; \v.>rid'rt a staijt," 
 
 And each of us endeavor all onr migth 
 Our follies to conceal, and only to reveal 
 
 That which is most pleajsing to the Right. 
 No matter where you go, from the higliost to the low, 
 
 From Peasantry right up to Kings and Queens, 
 Whatever they enjoy there's something to aunoy, 
 
 If we could only see "bcliing the scenes. " 
 
 :o: 
 
 <<Tlic Spade.'' 
 
 (Jive me the spado and the man who can use it ; 
 
 A fig for your lord, a.i I his soft silken hands. 
 Let the man who has j^ti >;iigth never stoop to abuse it, 
 
 Give back to the giver — the land, boys, the land. 
 There's no bank like the Earth to deposit your labor, 
 
 The more you deposit the more you shall have ; 
 If there's more than you want you can giv.; to your iieigliliDi-, 
 
 And your name shall be dear to the true and the brave. 
 
 Chorus. — Give nic the Spade, etc. 
 
 Give mo the spade — the American's glory — 
 
 That fashions tke field from the bleak barren moor, 
 Let us speak of its praise in ballad and story, 
 
 While 'tis brightened with labor, not tarnished with goiv. 
 It was not the Sword that won our best battles, 
 
 Created our Commerce, extended our Trade, 
 Gave food for our wives, our children, our cattle, 
 
 But the Queen of all Aveapons— tlie Si)ade, boys, the Spade. 
 
 Chorus. — Give me the Spade, etc. 
 
 Give me the Spado, there's a magic about it, 
 
 That turns the black soil into bright shining gold ; 
 What would our fathers have done, boys, without it, 
 
 When this land lay all bare and the north wind blew cold. 
 Whore the tall forests stood, and the wild beast was yelling, 
 
 Where our stout-hearted ancestors shrank back afraid — 
 Now the cornstack is raised — They have cleared a dwelling. 
 
 Then hurrah for our true friend, the Spade, boys, tho Spade. 
 
 Chorus. — (;ime me the Spade, etc. 
 
^ 17 - 
 All iliat flitters is not gold. 
 
 I n tills world of care anil trouble, 
 
 Wlicre men toil with hand -evil l)»ain, 
 Seeking fame, that airy bubble, 
 
 And not always seek in vain ; 
 Tho' the patchs bestrewed with 11'. -v'rs, 
 
 And the laurel bind his brow, 
 All his friends admire his powers, 
 
 He can do without tlicm now. 
 
 (*iioi{U«. — Still he's wasted, worn and weary. 
 And he finds he's growing old, 
 Jlomember thou the sage adage — 
 '* All that glitters is not gold." 
 
 Sue tho Warner, brave in action, 
 
 Ever ready for the fray ; 
 Sternly, nobly, scorns all faction, 
 
 And to freedom fights his way ; 
 I low he bears with cold and hunger — 
 
 ' fouseless, homeless, neath the wky ; 
 Ho must march a little longer, 
 
 'J'ill he hears the battle cry. 
 
 ( iioiMrs. — Then his soul is filled with glory, 
 
 Tho' his friends lie stark and cold. 
 Thus ends many a heroes story, — 
 '• All that glitters is not gold." 
 
 See the great and mighty noble, 
 
 1{ oiling in his coach of state ; 
 Surely he has ne'er known trouble, 
 
 His seems such a happy fate ; 
 He has heaps of land and money, 
 
 Lovely wife and children fair, 
 W'liat a grand ancestral dwelling I 
 
 Surely he has not a care. 
 
 (.'jiouus. — Ask his friends and they will mutter, 
 By his bankers he's been sold ; 
 And this will prove the truth I utter, ~ 
 '* All that glitters is not gold." 
 
 :o: 
 
 (JoLH. — One cubic inch of gold is worth $210 ; one cubic foot, 
 3302,889; one cubic yard, $9,797,762. This is valuing it at 
 $18,69 an ounce. At the commencement of the Christian era, 
 there was then int he world $427,000,000 in gold. This had dimi- 
 nished to $57,000,000 at the time America was discovered. Then 
 it began to increase. Now, the amount of gold in use is esti- 
 mated to be $6,000,000,000. Yet all this welded into one mass, 
 would be contained in a cube of twenty-six feet. 
 
- 18- 
 
 \ liiiudred years ago. 
 
 A liiiiulrcd years ago, 
 
 The world was just as now ; 
 The ways of men are same as thoti, 
 
 And will be bo [ trow ; 
 We've joy to raise our hearts, 
 And f^rief to lay them low ; 
 Vet j<ty and ^ricf, were juHtfls l>riut', 
 A hundred years ago, 
 < noRUs.~A hundred years ago, 
 A hundred j'eais ago, 
 Vet joy and grief, were just as I riuf, 
 A hundred years ago. 
 
 The gay and giddy erowd, 
 
 Which ev'ry day we view, 
 l>oth old and young have passions sLrnn;,', 
 
 As those our grandsire knew ; 
 111 friondsliip and in truth, 
 Vou'll lind 'twas ever so, 
 l''()r fools believed and knaves deceived, 
 A hundred years ago. 
 CKonrs. — A hundred years ago, 
 A hundred years ago, 
 For fools believed and knaves deceived, 
 A hundred years ago. 
 
 Let heroes talk of war, 
 
 1 n ages past away, 
 The laurels won were pr(>udly borne. 
 
 As those they win to-day ; 
 Wliat tho, our valiant arms. 
 
 Lay prostrate every foe, 
 Tho men of old, were quite as boUl, 
 A hundred years ago. 
 i'Hoi;Lfs. — A hundred years ago, 
 A liundred years ago, 
 The men of old were c|iiito as l>old, 
 A hundred years ago. 
 
 Tlicn since 'tAvas ever so, 
 
 Let pleasure be the theme. 
 The song entwine with wit and wine, 
 
 And women reign supreme ; 
 NVhy gather life's dark flow'rs, 
 
 ^^'hen bright ones round us grow, 
 1 1 was the same what e'er you name, 
 A hundred years ago, 
 Ciioiti.s. — A hundred years ago, 
 A hundred years ago, 
 It was the same whate'er you name, 
 A hundred^years ago. 
 
- 10- 
 ** hill Slow and Sleaily, Boy.** 
 
 Alwdyn pull together, is a maxim truo and good, 
 Although ill many instanocs it hati boon misoonHtiued, 
 Tho moaning that IM have yon tak«, is a nimplo one, m Ici'd, 
 It's always pull to.^cthur if you would mako any npoed. 
 
 Chorus. 
 So pull slow and steady, boys, for strange though it may secin, 
 The lijinlest [Mill won't make the boat go fastest ilowu the 
 
 stream. 
 If you wish to hccp bark afloat and brave life's stojiny 
 
 weather. 
 Never dip your oars too deep, but always p»ill together. 
 
 There's many married couples who lead a wretched life ; 
 The husband's temper is no doubt sometimes the cause of strife ; 
 While many wives forget their vows, — love, honor and obey, 
 Although their hus])ands pull aright, they pull the other way. 
 
 So pull slow and steady, boys, etc. 
 
 If we look in our work shops, how many men we see. 
 That with their follow workmen can never Wi'dl agree ; 
 [There would be peace if they'd but mind the little maxim truo, 
 I Always i)ull together, then they'd be a happy crew. 
 
 So pull slow and 8t«ady, boys. etc. 
 
 [So always pull together as on life's stream you glide, 
 Ne'er lose iieart tho'you have to pull against a running tide, 
 W'ijat tho' the wind's against you, 'twill very soon blow past, 
 |rull with a will and you will reach the harbor safe at last. 
 
 So pull slow and steady, boys, etc. 
 :o: 
 
 It is better to laugh thau to cry. 
 
 It is^wise when we enter the battle of life, 
 
 I'o be armed for the liglit at the first, 
 I'or although we may hope for the best on tho strife. 
 
 We should always prepare for]the worst. 
 Do not dream of despairing, or giving things up, 
 
 If fortune is fickle or shy, 
 For you'll find whether bitter or sweet be the cup. 
 
 Itfis better^to laugh^than to cry. 
 
 ( Mours.— 'So never give way to the carea|of to day, 
 Better luck it^mayjcome bye and bye, 
 I And to-morrow may bring quite a diflercnt thing, 
 
 i So it's better to laugh than to cry. 
 
 There's a charm about laughter that lengthens our lives, 
 
 And a poison in sighing or care ; 
 For wherever we look, 'tis good humor tliat thrives, 
 
 And fretting that leads to despair. 
 
-20- 
 
 Of all tlio wi'ho tilings that arc taught us at 8cho(»1, 
 
 'I'lioib is nothing on which wo roly 
 With HO firm a boTief, as that exccllont \u\v, 
 
 It 18 bettor to laugh than to cry. 
 
 So never give way, etc. 
 
 'i'luMo iscjuito as nmoh ploaHuroai pain after all, 
 
 Iri this bright little world of our own, 
 And that pleasure will readily come at our call ; 
 
 If the right way to call it is known. 
 Should trouble pursue, or calamity press, 
 
 And fortune prove fickle or shy, 
 In the moment of pain or the day of distress. 
 
 It i." butter to laugh than to cry. 
 
 bo never give way, etc. 
 
 :o: 
 
 SHdiug on the cellar door. 
 
 How oft we talked of childhood's ioys, of tricks we used to play, 
 {Maying "hookey" from the school, to sport the live-long day ! 
 And oh, often do I sigh for those bright days of yore, 
 When liiily Brown and I did slide down on the cellar door. 
 
 Chokus. — Yes, I would give my Greenbackiii, 
 I'o see those days once more, 
 Whnn Billy Brown and slid down 
 Old Grimes' cellar door. 
 
 Some l»(>ys would stealing apples go, while others used to stray 
 Down on the docks, wiiere sugar casks in rows together lay ! 
 Rut Bill and 1 would seek the spot, so dear to us in yore, | 
 
 .\nd side by side, together slide down the old cellar door. i 
 
 Chorus. — Yes, I would give, etc. 
 
 But at last a change came o'er the scene, when poor old (crimes 
 
 lie died — 
 ills sou removed the cellar door on which we used to slide. 
 Our mothers they >vere glad of it, for the pantaloons we tore. 
 They had to bchaU-solcd and heeled, from sliding on the door. 
 
 Chorus. — Yes, I would'give, etc. 
 
 But since I arrived at manhood's age, the only sport to me, 
 Or my ancient friend, Billy Brown, is to go ujwn a spre-; ; 
 Yet, we never do enjoy ourselves, as in the days of yore, 
 AN'hen Billy Brown and I slid down old Grimes' cellar door. 
 
 Chorus. — Yes, I would give, etc. t 
 
 :o: I 
 
 Ladies please be sweet, but don't be too formal; bemoses, but ti 
 don't be prim-roses. 
 
Dp A tree. 
 
 \'on gee l)ofore you odo who'^ Ixscii in lit'i; tliro' many a chiiigiiig 
 Mcne. 
 And yet withal a littln green, of courne, I know it now : 
 Althong I've heon int'ortnnate, yon will allow m^ to relate 
 That once I owneil a largo cHtato— 'twas then frieinl.H nsed to 
 bow ; 
 " Dear Jack, old hoy," th^'V then would say, " I'm [U'oud of 
 such D meeting ! 
 Now do you do ? Where have yi>u heen ? \«).4'rc looking w«^ll, 
 I 860 ; " 
 But now tiiey've grown so very shy they can't afiord a groctin,' ; 
 In vulgar phra^''olo;^3', bicauso I'm *•'/;> u //•-''." 
 
 < |[(»RL'S. 
 
 I'd friends in groat variety, who courted my society ; 
 
 Came to dine, drank my wino. shook my hand with glee - 
 I might walk from now 'till Whithsunsi le, but then they aea 
 me, of!" they glide, 
 
 And pass me ou the other side, because I'm ** up a tver." 
 
 1 onoc could give good dinners, ah, 'twas then the hungry sinners 
 Would haunt my table daily, praise my ju l-^inent, jokes and 
 wine ; 
 Join in convivialty, accept my hospitality. 
 
 Until, through prodigality, my fortune did dddinn. 
 And so did they, for one by ono they left me in my glory, 
 
 A friend I stood in need of, but not one couhl 1 see ; 
 Wy money'd gone and so liad they ; we'l, 'tis the same old st >ry 
 So while you have it, keep it, or you'll soon be *' Uf) a trcf.'" 
 
 Ciioitts. — I'd friends, etij. 
 
 I once could drive my four-in-hand, had money, too, at my 
 command, 
 Could "do the grand, " you understand— how foolish I havo 
 been. 
 I stand here to exemplify "sweet uses of adversity," 
 
 To prove my friends in poverty — aequaintauoes, 1 m ;an : 
 Better times will coma again, a lesson, twill have taoght me — 
 •* Preserve me from my friends," for the future it sh ill be ; 
 I've paid for my experience, tho you see to what it's bro't m^, 
 I'm a •• sadder, yet a wiser man," although I'm *• up a Ir^^n." 
 
 Choru.s. — I'd friouds, etc. 
 
 :o: 
 
 Fixed stars shine with a steady lustre ; a near lantsrn is bet- 
 ter than a distant star ; when you despair of good, ))jware of 
 •vil ; a pea is as big as a mountain to a blind man ; sorrows aru 
 the shadow of past joys ; the darker the setting, the brighter 
 the diamond ; married men live longer than single ones. 
 
- 22 - 
 My old wife and !• 
 
 I merrily slug from morn 'till night, and misery 1 <lefy ; 
 And I've a wife who with delight, sings just as happy as I. 
 She is the comfort of my life, my darling and my pride ; 
 For twenty years together, boy^, we've traveled it side by sido. 
 (Jrroiujs.— Round goes the world, troubles I defy ; 
 
 Jogging along together, my boys, my dear old wife and 1 
 When homeward I'm returning, she'll greet me with a smile ; 
 Her dear old face beams with delight, in such a happy style. 
 • 'Come sit down by the fireside," slie'll say, "and take your t.ua, ' 
 She laughs and jokes on 'tother side, a picture, boys, to see. . 
 
 Round goes the world, etc. I 
 
 In Winter, when the snow is down, she'll meet ma at the d(»orJ 
 With, come in, lad, and warm yonrsolf, you must be cold I'm sn re;. 
 Shu brings my slippers warm and dry, and lay.^ tl;em by my si-U', 
 I'll never find her equal, though 1 search the world so wuK;. 
 
 Kound goes the world, etc. 
 I smoke my pipe and sing my song, tontent to stay at hoin.- 
 I'm happy as the day is long, and ne'er inclined to roam. 
 Others may talk of single bliss, and for their freedom sigh ; 
 Hut that will never bo the ca^e with my old wife and I. a 
 
 Round goes the world, (^tc. 
 
 Give a niau a chance. 
 
 I'm tir'd of offering advice, so will the subject change, 
 And try a song of different stamp, a title far from strange ; 
 So, while I strive to do my beat, ab me pr:iy takj a glanjj ; 
 Just lend your sympathizing ears, ani give a m\\ a chance. 
 
 Chorus. 
 So always, boys, act fair and square, accept what fortune grants 
 And don't be over critical, — but give a man a chance. 
 It's anything but proper, on a couple to intrude, 
 To spoil a fellow making love, is very, very rude. 
 Don't interrupt their tet i -a-tata by making an advance : 
 But walk a mile another way, and give a man a chance. 
 
 So always, boys, etc. J 
 
 Suppose a fellow can't stump up twanty shillings in the pouuH; 
 Perhaps if breathing time be given, the needful will be found! 
 Say to him, "Wtll, I'll wait a bit ; " think of this t^irconstau«e. 
 And if you don't press over gard, yo i give a man a chance. 
 
 So alwayj , boys, etc. 
 My song perhaps, may not please you, but to do so is my ami 
 To meet your kind approval is the summit of my fame ; j 
 
 But if you do not quite agree with what I now advance. 
 Just be as lenient as you can, and give a man a chanee. P 
 
 So always, boys, ftto « 
 
Shabby diruteel. 
 
 ^Ve havo lieard it asserted, ;v dozen times o'ej", 
 
 'I'liat a man may be happy in rngs, 
 i hat a prince is no more in his cairiagt^ an I fotir, 
 
 I'han a pauper w ho tramj>s ou tlie llag« ; 
 As J chance to be neither, I cannot describ • 
 
 How a prince or a pauper may feel, 
 1 Itolong to that highly respectable tribe 
 
 Which is known as the Shabby (ientecl. 
 
 Chorus. —Too proud to beg, to honest to isteal. 
 
 I know what il is to be wanting a meal ; 
 My tatters and rags 1 try to conceal, 
 I'm one of thg .Sliabby (icnteel. 
 
 I'm a paity, in fact, who has known better days, 
 
 IJut their glory is faded and gone ; 
 1 have started in life in a lot of odd ways, 
 
 r>ut have Jiot found the way to get on. 
 'I'hcre are only three roads, I'm afraid, that are left ; 
 
 I shall have to beg, borrow, or steal, 
 \'<-t 1 don't quite encourage the notion of theft, 
 
 Tho' I'm awfully Shabby (^enteel. 
 
 Too proud to beg, etc. 
 
 I am drey«e<l in my best though I cannot pretend 
 
 That my costume is quite comme i/fmif, ; 
 You'll observe that my watch lias been left with a friend, 
 
 And my gloves are unfitted for show ; 
 Tiiere are traces of wear on my elbows and knees, 
 
 -Vnd my boots have run down at the heel ; 
 I'iiit it's cruel to criticise matters like these. 
 
 \Vhen a man lias grown Shabby Genteel. 
 
 Too proud to l)eg, etc 
 
 [.Siill 1 sti'ivc to be sheerful in all my distress, 
 
 And 1 bear my bad luck like a man ; 
 [111 can't have my way as too feeding or dross, 
 
 I must still do the best that I can ; 
 [And remember, good people, that Fortune some day, 
 
 By a turn of her treacherous wheel 
 [May reduce one of you on the very same way, 
 
 i'o the level of Shabby Genteel, 
 
 Too proud to beg, etc, 
 
 :o: 
 
 The average ef IwiMianljf^ ia 33 yeAv?. , O.'io fourth of the 
 puiation ckc^ ki oi^ I)efditJ ttirf a^e V)f fievKia ;yen,!*3, One half 
 or before 80\^efitoen'yoar«. •', r » i •*,."•.♦,*,, ^,, 
 
Dowu in a coal minr. 
 
 T iiTii a jovial collier lad, 
 
 A« I)lithe as blitlie can 1)?, 
 K<>i h;t the times be good or bad, 
 
 'llipy're all the same to me ; 
 "lis* little of tlie world I know, 
 
 And ca)e Icrh for its ways, 
 I'or wliere the dog-star never glows, 
 
 ] wear away my days. 
 < iinju s. - DoMn in a coal mine, nndcrneath tliegiound. 
 
 Where a gleam of sunshine never can be found ; 
 
 i >igging dusky diamonds all the reason nnind, 
 
 Down in a coal mine underneath the ground. 
 
 My hands are horny hard and black, 
 
 W ith working in the vein, 
 And like the clothes upon my back, 
 
 My speech is rough and plain ; 
 ^Vell, if I stumble wdth my tongue, 
 
 I've one excuse to say. 
 "I'is not the collier's heart that's wrong, 
 
 ''I'is the head that goes astray. 
 
 Down in a coal mine, etc. 
 
 At every shift, be it soon or late, 
 
 1 haste my bread to earn. 
 And anxiously my kindred wait 
 
 And watch for my return ; 
 For death that levels all alike, 
 
 "NMiatc'er their rank may be, 
 Amid the tire and damp may strike. 
 
 And (ling his dart.3 at me. 
 
 D(iwn in a coal mine, eto. 
 
 How little do tho great oaes care 
 
 AVho sit at home secure ; 
 What hidden dangers colliers dare — 
 
 AVhat hardships they endure ! 
 I'he very fires their mansions boats 
 
 To cheer themselves and wives, 
 Mayhap were kindled at tho cost 
 
 Of jovial coliers'lives. 
 
 Down in a coal m MO. (to. 
 
 Then cheer up, lads, and niake ye much 
 
 Of every joy ye can, 
 But let your mirthj>e always such 
 
 As hti-t bci!oil»3fl'a>':ian / ./ '■ " ;" :',^ .". 
 However fortue tui'rCs'^lJout,' *', '*-'^'-** 
 
 We'll stili be jovikl souls, ' " 
 
 For what woidd naiiony be with^Uv , ■ ' ■ 
 
 The iads tha{i look for coals. ' . - , '\. 
 
 l>OAvn in a oohI )t«ino» «to. 
 
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