{"AIPUUID":[{"label":"AIPUUID","value":"dc72a0c3-b4e5-44d1-bf6a-9c216ed62cfb","attrs":{"lang":"en","ns":"https:\/\/open.library.ubc.ca\/terms#identifierAIP","classmap":"oc:DigitalPreservation","property":"oc:identifierAIP"},"iri":"https:\/\/open.library.ubc.ca\/terms#identifierAIP","explain":"UBC Open Collections Metadata Components; Local Field; Refers to the Archival Information Package identifier generated by Archivematica. This serves as a link between CONTENTdm and Archivematica."}],"AggregatedSourceRepository":[{"label":"AggregatedSourceRepository","value":"CONTENTdm","attrs":{"lang":"en","ns":"http:\/\/www.europeana.eu\/schemas\/edm\/dataProvider","classmap":"ore:Aggregation","property":"edm:dataProvider"},"iri":"http:\/\/www.europeana.eu\/schemas\/edm\/dataProvider","explain":"A Europeana Data Model Property; The name or identifier of the organization who contributes data indirectly to an aggregation service (e.g. Europeana)"}],"CatalogueRecord":[{"label":"CatalogueRecord","value":"http:\/\/resolve.library.ubc.ca\/cgi-bin\/catsearch?bid=2156711","attrs":{"lang":"en","ns":"http:\/\/purl.org\/dc\/terms\/isReferencedBy","classmap":"edm:ProvidedCHO","property":"dcterms:isReferencedBy"},"iri":"http:\/\/purl.org\/dc\/terms\/isReferencedBy","explain":"A Dublin Core Terms Property; A related resource that references, cites, or otherwise points to the described resource."}],"Collection":[{"label":"Collection","value":"UBC Library Digitization Centre Special Projects","attrs":{"lang":"en","ns":"http:\/\/purl.org\/dc\/terms\/isPartOf","classmap":"dpla:SourceResource","property":"dcterms:isPartOf"},"iri":"http:\/\/purl.org\/dc\/terms\/isPartOf","explain":"A Dublin Core Terms Property; A related resource in which the described resource is physically or logically included."}],"Contributor":[{"label":"Contributor","value":"Ketcheson, H. Ruth","attrs":{"lang":"en","ns":"http:\/\/purl.org\/dc\/terms\/contributor","classmap":"dpla:SourceResource","property":"dcterms:contributor"},"iri":"http:\/\/purl.org\/dc\/terms\/contributor","explain":"A Dublin Core Terms Property; An entity responsible for making contributions to the resource.; Examples of a Contributor include a person, an organization, or a service."}],"Creator":[{"label":"Creator","value":"Morton, David C.","attrs":{"lang":"en","ns":"http:\/\/purl.org\/dc\/terms\/creator","classmap":"dpla:SourceResource","property":"dcterms:creator"},"iri":"http:\/\/purl.org\/dc\/terms\/creator","explain":"A Dublin Core Terms Property; An entity primarily responsible for making the resource.; Examples of a Contributor include a person, an organization, or a service."}],"DateAvailable":[{"label":"DateAvailable","value":"2015-02","attrs":{"lang":"en","ns":"http:\/\/purl.org\/dc\/terms\/issued","classmap":"edm:WebResource","property":"dcterms:issued"},"iri":"http:\/\/purl.org\/dc\/terms\/issued","explain":"A Dublin Core Terms Property; Date of formal issuance (e.g., publication) of the resource."}],"DateCreated":[{"label":"DateCreated","value":"1948","attrs":{"lang":"en","ns":"http:\/\/purl.org\/dc\/terms\/created","classmap":"oc:SourceResource","property":"dcterms:created"},"iri":"http:\/\/purl.org\/dc\/terms\/created","explain":"A Dublin Core Terms Property; Date of creation of the resource."}],"Description":[{"label":"Description","value":"Unaccompanied melodies.
Chiefly English words.
Includes index.","attrs":{"lang":"en","ns":"http:\/\/purl.org\/dc\/terms\/description","classmap":"dpla:SourceResource","property":"dcterms:description"},"iri":"http:\/\/purl.org\/dc\/terms\/description","explain":"A Dublin Core Terms Property; An account of the resource.; Description may include but is not limited to: an abstract, a table of contents, a graphical representation, or a free-text account of the resource."}],"DigitalResourceOriginalRecord":[{"label":"DigitalResourceOriginalRecord","value":"https:\/\/open.library.ubc.ca\/collections\/specialp\/items\/1.0065934\/source.json","attrs":{"lang":"en","ns":"http:\/\/www.europeana.eu\/schemas\/edm\/aggregatedCHO","classmap":"ore:Aggregation","property":"edm:aggregatedCHO"},"iri":"http:\/\/www.europeana.eu\/schemas\/edm\/aggregatedCHO","explain":"A Europeana Data Model Property; The identifier of the source object, e.g. the Mona Lisa itself. This could be a full linked open date URI or an internal identifier"}],"Extent":[{"label":"Extent","value":"224 pages of music : illustrations ; 14 cm","attrs":{"lang":"en","ns":"http:\/\/purl.org\/dc\/terms\/extent","classmap":"dpla:SourceResource","property":"dcterms:extent"},"iri":"http:\/\/purl.org\/dc\/terms\/extent","explain":"A Dublin Core Terms Property; The size or duration of the resource."}],"FileFormat":[{"label":"FileFormat","value":"application\/pdf","attrs":{"lang":"en","ns":"http:\/\/purl.org\/dc\/elements\/1.1\/format","classmap":"edm:WebResource","property":"dc:format"},"iri":"http:\/\/purl.org\/dc\/elements\/1.1\/format","explain":"A Dublin Core Elements Property; The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource.; Examples of dimensions include size and duration. Recommended best practice is to use a controlled vocabulary such as the list of Internet Media Types [MIME]."}],"FullText":[{"label":"FullText","value":" 1\n\u25a0\u00ebi\n_\u00a3h 'Preposterous ass, that never read so far\nTo know the cause why music was ordair\u00edd!\nWas it not to refresh the mind of man\nAfter his studies or his usual pain?\"\nThe Taming of the Shrew III, i.\nCopyright, Canada, 1948,\nby the\nAlma Mater Society\nof the\nUniversity of British Columbia Although one of the youngest members of the collegiate\nbrotherhood, the University of British Columbia has already\nachieved the reputation of a great academic institution. Owing,\nhowever, to the amazing rapidity of its growth, it is somewhat\nlacking in the traditional atmosphere of student \"camaraderie\"\nand \"esprit de corps\", which exists in the more venerable seats of\nlearning. It is, therefore, with a great many hopes, not unmixed\nwith some fears, that the Editors offer this Song Book to the student body. The need for a collection of songs, which could be\nsung by the students when they were gathered together, has long\nbeen realized. It is hoped that by supplying this need, the present\nvolume will be a step forward in the development of a University\nSpirit and at the same time, it will, in years to come, serve to\nrevive old memories for those who have bid farewell to their\nAlma Mater.\nIn many ways, this Song Book is a new venture. Not only is\nit the first to be published for the use of the students of the University of British Columbia, but it is also, as far as is known, the\nfirst pocket-sized Song Book to be produced on this continent.\nDuring the process of compilation, the Editors examined the song\nbooks of innumerable universities and came to the conclusion that\nwhat was needed, was not a large volume, but rather one which\ncould be slipped into a pocket or purse, ready for any occasion. r\nBecause of its compact size, it was deemed necessary to abbreviate,\nwherever possible, the music and verses of the songs. In this\nrespect, the Editors have taken as their models the excellent pocket-\nsize university song books which are used everywhere by the students in Europe.\nIn an attempt to include only those songs which would find\nfavour with the student body, the Editors sought the assistance of\na Compilation Committee. This Committee consisted of O Nora\nI. Clarke, President of the Women's Undergraduate Society, 1947-\n48; Jerry MacDonald, President of the Literary and Scientific\nExecutive, 1947-48; John Fish, President of the Musical Society,\n1947A9; Dave Hayward, President of the Jokers, 1945-47; Buzz\nWalker, Student Council Coordinator of Social Activities, 1946-\n47 ; and Don Ferguson, Editor-in-Chief of the Publications Board,\n1947-48. The Committee spent a great deal of time and care\nselecting the songs which were chosen with the object of providing\nthe greatest possible variety, suitable for every singer and any\noccasion. With this in mind, not only the old favorites were included, but also songs which, although unknown to most students\nof the University, are nevertheless well-tried and popular elsewhere.\nIt is sincerely hoped that the students will accept these songs with\nthe same enthusiasm with which they regard the old favorites.\nIn order to maintain a certain degree of continuity, the\ndisposition of the songs in their various sections may, at times,\nseem somewhat unprecedented. There are some who may be\nstartled to find a nonsensical song like \"A Capital Ship\" linked\nwith the classics of the sea or translations of German student\nsongs among the traditional British student songs. However, the\nEditors feel that the unity resulting from the classification of the\nsongs according to subject matter more than compensates for\nwhat some may consider to be a lack of good taste. n\nThe Editors are only too well aware of the many imperfections which this Song Book contains. They can but off et as their\nexcuse, the fact that this is the first attempt that has been made\nalong these lines, and, like all first attempts, is necessarily rather\ncrude and unfinished. To posterity must be left, the task of adding\nthe polish and finesse which the present volume may lack.\nThe Editors are deeply grateful to all those who have been\nkind enough to offer them advice and encouragement. They are\nparticularly indebted to Miss Virginia L. H. Bullied, at all times\na willing guide and counsellor, whose knowledge enabled them to\ncut the Gordian Knot of copyrights, and to Mr. Alexander Bor-\nrowman, whose assistance and technical knowledge of printing\nhave greatly simplified their task. The Editors wish to express\ntheir gratitude to those members of the Faculty, especially the\nProfessors of the Language Departments, who have been so generous with their advice and encouragement. They also*wish to thank\nthose Universities who were kind enough to put their Song Books\nat the disposal of the Editors.\nEvery effort has been made to include various copyrighted songs, which, it was felt, would add greatly to the\nvalue of the book. Some publishers, however, remained adamant\nand, in spite of numerous requests, refused the necessary permission. To the following firms, therefore, the obligation is the\ngreater for their courtesy, in permitting the Editors to include\nsongs to which they hold the copyrights.\nAscherberg, Hopwood 6r Crew, Ltd.; Edwin Ashdown, Ltd.;\nKoosey & Hawkes, Ltd.; Chappell & Co., Ltd.; M. M. Cole\nPublishing Co.; Colonial Music Publishing Co. Inc.; J. B.\nCramer & Co., Ltd.; Francis, Day & Hunter, Ltd.; Edward\nB. Marks Music Corporation; Carl Fischer Inc.; The Peter\nu Maurice Music Co., Ltd.; G. Ricordi & Co.; W. Paxton &\nCo., Ltd.; The Scottish Students' Song Book Committee Ltd.;\nSouthern Music Publishing Co. Inc.; Southern Music Publishing Co. (Canada) Ltd.; Gordon V. Thompson, Ltd.\nThe editors also wish to acknowledge the permission granted\nby Simon & Schuster, Inc., to use Miss Margaret Boni's editorial\nnotes from the \"Fireside Book of Folk Songs.\"\nBoth the Editors and the publishers alike have made every\neffort to guard against any infringement of copyright. If they\nhave been unfortunate enough, to make an unintentional error,\nthey offer their sincerest apologies and. if notified, will be happy\nto rectify the mistake in future editions.\n\u25a0^\u00ab^a \u00a3. 'Wtss\n\u00df\/.rfae.\nDecember, 1948 Songs o\u00ed the\nBlue and Gold Hail, U.B.C I\nHarold King, Education '32 Harold King, Education '32\nfc\n-\u00a3\nm^ =4^t^^LJ^i^=^^^\nWe wear the blue and gold of the viotors, We are the men of the\n=\u00bf3\nl^\"7^^^TT^p=R J i J j\nU. B. C.\n^\u00a5\nAll o - ther men ac - know - ledge us mas - ters\nm\n-j* j\u00bb j j\nm.\n\u00ed\nf\n#=\u2014#\nWe are strong in ad - ver- -si - ty. There's work for the day and\ny^M-p-i^^FEX^\n\u25a0\n\u00cd\nwork for the mor - row, We are ones who will do our share.\nit\u00f3\ng=E r r ftp g r j r H? p r rTn\n\u00e9\nShouting in joy and si-lent in sor\nChorus :\n- row, Bra^ver\u00ab- y conquers care.\n32\n\"CSE\nf~_r f ~*fr~ i r p\nHail!\nU. B. C.\nOur glor - ious Un\ni -\n\u00e1fe\n1\nO\nver\nsi - ty.\nYou\nstand for aye\nl$*J\u00c8pJLJ_\u00a3_fJ^P\n33E\n^^\nbe*tween the moun - tains and the sea.\ni\ni\n\u00e4\n=0\u00a1:\ni\n*r [ r J\nAH\nthrough life's way\nwe'll sing \"Kla - how - yah\nJ?:\nm\nTu - um Est'\nwins the\nr r ir \\r im^\nmm\n._\u00ab*\" \u2014\"*< :\nAnd we'll push on\n8\nto vfc - to - ry. Toast to U.B.G\nD. C. Morton, Arts '49\nTraditional Student Song\n4-J^'J. J1^\nPP\n1. Comrades, ga - ther round and join us In a toast to stu - dent\n\u00a7 i j- j' i\nN h n\n\u00d6\n\u00a5==*=#= =#\ndays. To our col - lege by the mountains, Where the fires of sun - set\nm\nj: i j\n\u00ab #\nblaze. Drink a toast to Love and Beau-ty, As they did in days of\nm\nj\u00bb j-if p r pit1 *\u00e7% Jii >^\nyore, Let the Flame of Youth light up The Halls of Wis - dorn once\ni\nr *p''p Jij. \u00abN'i\nJ \u00abM'TT\n\u00bf=\u00bf\nmore. Let the Flame of Youth light up The Halls of Wis - dorn once more.\n2.\n1\nWhen the evening shadows lengthen\nOn the steps of old Brock Hall,\nThen the ghosts of long-gone students\nGather on the silent Mall.\nFor the Thunderbird is beating\nOn the drums of victory,\nAnd beneath their Sunset Banners\nMarch the men of U. B. C.\nAnd beneath their Sunset Banners\nMarch the men of U. B. C.\nIn their crucibles the sages\nMuttered charms of alchemy,\nIn the days when minstrel pages\nSang the songs of chivalry;\nBut in our hands all the past joy\nIn our goblets' depth appears,\nNow transmuted to a golden\nPromise for the future years,\nNow transmuted to a golden\nPromise for the future years.\nComrades, on your feet and join us!\nLift your brimming goblets high!\nLet the toast roll out like thunder!\nLet the echoes crack the sky!\nIn the shadows of the mountains\nHigh above the Western sea,\nComrades, one and all, come join us\nIn a toast to U. B. C.\nComrades, one and all, come join us\nIn a toast to U. B. C.\n\u00dc High on Olympus\nD. C Morton, Arts '49-. J. C. F. Haeffner\nConvocational Antbem of the University of British Columbia.\n$c r r p r\u2014\u00bf i J\ni\n1. High on O - lym - pus, where dwelt A - the - ne.\n$\nJ J'lJ J\u00bb J! m\n^^^\nSing we the song that the gods sang of old\nft r r p r^^ t r r g r r. i\nWhile from the foun - tain drink we the nee - tar\nigm\nmmm ^\np^=p\nStreams that the life - gh\u00bb - ing know - ledge un - fold.\n4 J J' i\nfa*- O -i\n\u00ed\nMen from the moun - tains\u00bb men from the val - leys,\nit j -j \u00bbj j j i r P p u* r\nMen from the o - cean,\nmen from the ci\nties,\n4 j J- j j \u2022 j i j > j< j j\nCome to the West - era Sea, where the set - ting\n* Fine\nj\u00bbj j j' r^^\u00ef^^ p- p f~Ti\nSun spreads hit warm bur - nished man - tie of gold.\nft Jj. J? I f '\nJ J' J I.J\n^i'i i- J\nIn the glo - ry of the sun - set Wave the ban-ners where\nftj. J- Jl\u00ab!? J' p r j. jif J J- Ji\nYouth joins with Wis - dorn a - gain. And the ech - oes rise like\nft '\u2022' J j. j^Ti. j i j' t\u00ed j J: ^ j\u00bb\nthun - der In the halls where the gods once held judgment on men.\n10 1\nb\nJ- J-\nWhen Zeus his light - ning hurl'd Up - on the night- bound world.\n&, t tg ms* J^e\nt\nh h\n\u00e8 \u25a0\nJ\nt>\nAnd A - the - ne sprang forth ful - ly arm'd with Wis-dom's sword,\n3 3\no\na\nJ=\u00a3^\n$'\nFrom its gleam - ing through the dark - ness Shone the\nDC. Al Fine\nflame of the torch\n\u00e8=\u00c9i\n\u00e4\nwe were\ngiv - en to ward.\nAlma Mater\nProf H. T. Coleman\n4\n**\ni\n*=*=\u00a5\nIS\nP\np^\nD. O. Durkin, Arts '40\nH\u00e2\n1. Al - ma Ma-ter, by thy dwell-ing There is set the west - em sea,\n^ .^m\u00f1y i \/j j N jjj?tfir j\nMoun - tains shed their ben - e dic-tion On the hopes that rest in thee.\n2. Alma Mater, to thy children\nIn the spring-time of their years,\nGrant the faith that grows from knowledge,\nCourage that makes light of fears.\n3. Alma Mater, thou hast kinship\nWith the great of by-gone days,\nAnd the voices of our fathers\nJoin with ours to sing thy praise.\nIl Prof's Song\nAnon.\nAir founded on \"The Dutch Company\"\np|\nEE\nS\n^m\n1. Here's to the Pres - i \u00bbdent, come to see The stu - dents of this\nft * j i j \u2022 t|j j i j \u00abn j i j j i r ^\nVar - si\nty;\nHead o'er all\np) r irrpi\nthe Profs and we,\nChorus:\nThe\nm\nb-n N N\nm\n$\nmight\nnest he\nin\nthe Var -\nJ J' J'\nsi\nWith a kai, ai, ai, ai, ah! With a\np p p IT T-1J J N -3\n*\nkai, ai, ai, ai, ah! With a kai, ai ai, ai, ai, ai, ai, ai, ah!\n2. Here's to the Prof of Humanity,\nLikewise the Prof of Philology;\nLatin to him is a mystery,\nWithout the aid of an English key.\n3. Here's to the Prof of Geometry,\nThe latest expounder of a, b, c;\nBut oh! that he and his a plus b\nWere sunk in the sea of nonentity!\n4. Here's to the Prof of Philosophy,\nThe mystic sage of the 'Varsity,\nThe man of darkness\u2014the man at sea\nIn the maze of Responsibility.\n5. Here's to the Prof who has come to we,\nTo cram us in Psychology;\nRare boy he, and rare boys we.\nThe best in all the 'Varsity.\n6.. Here's to the Prof, of Physiology,\nFamous for his jocularity;\nListen to him when he tells a story.\nBut don't trust its credibility.\n7. Here's to a Prof of Divinity,\nA man of wondrous ubiquity;\nWhere'er you be you're sure to see\nThis man of curiosity. _\nBy permission from The Scottish Students Song Book. Ten Green Fresh\nAdapted by\nD. C. Morton, Arts '49\nmen\nAir: \"Ten Green Bottles\"\n,m j j J> J: jL-U J ^^\n1. Ten green Fresh - men,\nsit - ting on the wall,\n\u00ef j J\u00bb. JT^r^'f f\n\u00c9s\u00c9:\nj+-iri\\\n*\nOne pr\u00eat - ty co-ed\ncomes walk - ing down the MalLAnd if\nt r r l~^\n7-s j j> j\n^^\ns\none green Fresh - man should ac - ci - dent - 'ly fall, There'd be\nb N :\ns r p\nm\nnine green Fresh - men, a - sit - ting on\nWhistled\nthe wal\ne=^ -\u00bfn .i=a\n2. Nine green Freshmen, sitting on the wall,\nAnother pretty co-ed comes walking down the Mall,\nAnd if one green Freshman should accident'ly fall,\nThere'd be eight green Freshmen a-sitting on the wal\nSame as previous verse for eight, seven, six, etc.\nLast verse:\nOne green Freshman, sitting on the wall,\nOne pretty co-ed comes walking down the Mall,\nAnd if that green Freshman should accident'ly fall\u2014\nThere'd be nothing but their school-books a-sitting on the\nwall.\n13 My Girl's a Hullabaloo\nAnon.\nTraditional\nm\ni- j\u00bb j j j\nr p J J ^\ni^P\n*\n1. My girl's a Hal- la - ba - loo, She wears the Gold and Blue;\n j- j i j> j j- J' ;\u25a0 o i\nm\nShe goes to Var - si ty too, Just like the oth - ers do.\nChorus:\nPI\n^\naE\u00d6\n^\u00ed\nAnd in my fu - ture life\nShe's goin' to be my wife.\np p i_-i-\u00e7-\u00b1^-L_L_Li_^mjm\nHow in the world d'ja find that out?\n2. She goes to all the games\nJust like the other dames.\nI fork out all the change\nJust like the others do.\n3. She goes to all the shows,\nWears all the latest clothes,\nPowders her little nose,\nWhat for, nobody knows.\n4. When we go walking,\nShe does the talking,\nI do the squeezing,\nShe does the teasing.\n5. As we grow older\nShe will grow bolder,\nAnd she will hold her\nHead on my shoulder.\nShe told me so. Anon.\nThe Freshman's Dirge\nTraditional\np\n*\u00a3\n\u00abL J | J J -i~T7~^\n\u00e4=l\nE3E\n1. A poor lit - tie Fresh - man lay dy - ing.\nand\nm\nr r i r\nm\nas on his death - bed he lay,\nTo the\n|A J J ^\nm\n\u00ca\n\u00a7\nstu - dents a - round him all sigh\nmg,\np\nThese\nChorus:\nf\u2014t\u2014\u00a3\n\u00abM\nlast dy - ing\nwords he did\nsay:\nWrap me\n{\u00a1fAj J J I:J f\nI\n1\nup\nin my old sheet of fools - cap,\nAnd\nm\nB\n\u25a0\n\u00d6\nsay\na poor duf - fer lies low,\nAnd\n\u00ab\u25a0\nI\n3\n^s\n\u00abh\u2014-e\u00bb\nsix venge - ful profs all shall car - ry\nme,\nWith\nm\nw\nm\nju - bi - lant\nfa 1 ces a - glow.\n^^.\n2. Had I the brains of blue stockings\nTo honours first-class would I soar,\nFor the Governor-General's Gold Medal,\nA classical genius what's more.\nChorus :\nWrap me up in my Latin Lambics, etc.\n3. Then get you my poor, plucky papers,\nPut them down at my head and my toe,\nAnd an \"Eversharp\" get you and scratch there,\n\"Here lies a poor duffer below.\"\nChorus :\nWrap me up in my old Greek alcaics, etc.\n15 In the Ca\u00ed\nAnon.\nfe\nAir: \"In the Quartermaster's Stores\"\n\u00ef y.l\u00b1J[\u00b1_A-2lLstE=i4^\u00a3m%\n1. There was cheese, cheese with shock-ing dir ty knees, In the Caf, in the\n_\u00a3k\u00b1\n^m\nt^rir-j-j.\nm\n*\n6 S\nCaf. There was cheese,cheese with shock-ing dir-ty knees, In the Caf at U. B.\nChorus :\n#\n\u00cf^T11TTT=\u00cfT1=&\n\u00e4\nm\nc.\nMy eyes are dim, I can - not see, I have not brought my\ni .J,* t=3=\u00ef=^_Mi\u00b1-iJ\u00fbj\u00cam m\nspecs with me, I have not brought my specs with me.\n2. There we\/e eggs, eggs that walk about on legs,\n3. There was steak, steak to keep us all awake,\n4. There was bread, bread like great big lumps of lead,\n5. There was butter, butter, the scrapings of the gutter,\n6. There were kippers, kippers that walk about in slippers,\n7. There were cakes, cakes to give us stomach aches,\nU.B.C Toast\nj\n\u00e0\nBE\n^^=^kj_i. j -4-1 Jz^AjL^JLTrTi\nA toast to him we all will drink;\nA toast to him we all wil\n\u00c4\nmm\nm\ndrink;\nA toast,\na toast,\n16\nto him we'll\ndrink.\n:\u2014: Songs o\u00ed the\nFaculties Agriculture\nDr. Charles Kennedy\nAir: \"A wee Wifkie\"\nf\n? j \u25a0 ' j\nh h S N S J*\n\u00e9> o? # J \u00e9 ^\nO\n1. You'l\nfind\nme\nin each glass of\nm\nmilk you\nP^P\n-f *\nT\n5:\ntake in your in - side,\nAnd\niffr Jiy\nev' - ry ba - by's bot - tie\n5=5\nm\n#\nis a place where\n?\n\u00a3\n\u00ea\nbide;\np\u20142\nflour - ish so on lac - tose when\nW\nI get there in ad -\n^\nr f r f J rip^\nvanee\nThat 0 - t'her mi - cro - or - gan - isms, they\n\u00a1i\u00fces\u00fc\nty it r t j ^^\ndon't have half a chance, With the Lac - tic A - cid\n*\n^N' j 1 j f rr f f c>'\nBa - cil - lus, the Lac tic A - cid Ba - cil - lus Of the old milk can.\n2. I do my little best to free the milk of each bad germ\nFrom byre or cow or pail or can or milk-maid's epiderm;\nI'd do it in my own quiet way that don't need any study\nIf humans wouldn't boil me or nip me in the Budde\nWith Hydrogen Peroxide, Hydrogen Peroxide\nOr. scalding in a pan.\n3. With Coli, Streps and Staphys I'm familiar every day\nAnd now and then a Deppy or a Typho comes my way,\nBut T.B.'s are a trial for if we only knew\nThat Bovine's more infectious, then we might know what\nto do.\nI'm a very knowing Bacillus, a Lactic Acid Bacillus\nOf the old milk can.\n18 4. Alas! we're whiles caught napping in the good old\nSummertime,\nWhen cheeky Enteritis snap their thumbs at me and mine,\nAnd sometimes, I admit it, we are taken unawares\nWhen Scarlatina finds that milk is quite the best of fares,\nAnd laughs at this old Bacillus, and laughs at this old\nBacillus\nOf the old milk can.\nm *r\n5. For butter and for cheese I used to be the only spell,\nTill other things were found that seemed to do the trick\nas well,\nI don't so much mind rennet, but them acids that they\nuse\nTo make the butter come, are almost fit to give the blues.\nI'm a decent-minded Bacillus, a self-respecting Bacillus\nOf the old milk can.\n6. They've found out now that Buttermilk's a cure for all\nthe ills,\n\u25a0 But won't have me \"au naturel,\" they serve me up in pills,\nAnd call me lots of funny names, not thinking when I'm\ndry\nI'm nothing like so lively as the growing Baccili.\nI'm a dry and flaccid Bacillus, dull and torpid Bacillus\nOf the old milk can.\n7. So now if you would sup on milk that's innocent of harm\nConfide in me and cleanliness and never take it warm,\nBut wait until it turns a bit and pray don't pasteurize.\nJust give me time to do the trick and then you'll see how\nwise\nfis the Lactic-Acid Bacillus, the Prophylactic Bacillus\nOf the old milk can.\n\u00abr*\nY I\na*\n-\nBy permission from The British Students Song Book.\n9\n19 Air : \"Doin' What Come* Naturally\"\nWe're all Aggies, yesiree,\nOut to get some learnin'\n'Bout calf and chick and soil and tree.\nWe do it Agriculturally.\nWe ain't so much on boozin' but\nI think we're safe in statin'\nForty beers are but child's play\nDoin' it Agriculturally.\nHomer Quincy may be rough\nBut he is always ready;\nAnd he'll find one, wait and see\nThat's \"broke in\" Agriculturally.\nBrother Bill has built a still,\nUp there in the Bac lab.;\nCourse he isn't making tea,\nIt's done Agriculturally.\nThe cow she has her udder, but\nThat's not why we are here.\nBecause at milk we shudder and\nWe think much more of beer.\nOur farmer's dog, caught in a bog,\nFelt the call of nature;\nWhen he couldn't spy a tree.\nHe swore Agriculturally.\nApplied Science\nAir: \"Marines' Hymn\"\nWe are one united faculty,\nEngineers of U. B. C.\nWith all our strength we hope to be\nMen of great integrity.\nOur aim in life a noble one:\nTo serve with all our skill.\nOne and all we're mighty proud to be\nEngineers of U. B. C.\n20 Air: \"John Brown's Body\"\n1. Godiva was a lady who thro' Coventry did ride,\nTo show all the villagers her lovely bare-white hide.\nThe most observant man on earth\u2014an Engineer, of course,\nWas the only one to notice that Godiva rode a horse.\nChorus:\nWe are, we are, we are the engineers;\nWe can, we can demolish forty beers;\nDrink rum, drink rum, drink rum and follow us,\nFor we don't give a damn for any old man\nWho don't give a damn for us.\n2. \"Oh I have' come a long long way and the man will go as far\nWho gets me off this horse and leads me to\na bar.\"\nThe man who took her off the horse and stood her to a beer,\nWas a bleary-eyed surveyor and a of an engineer.\n3. Sir Francis Drake and all his men sailed down to Calais Bay,\nThey'd heard a Spanish rum fleet was sailing by that way;\nThe engineers beat them there by a night and half a day,\nAnd though as drunk as , there's one thing still\nthey'd say.\nAir: \"Put on Your Old, Grey Bonnet\"\n1. Put on your old red sweater\n'Cause there isn't any better,\nAnd we'll open up another keg of beer,\n'Cause it ain't for knowledge\nThat we come to college\nBut to raise \u2014- while we're here.\n2. Put on your old grey bonnet\nWith the gin stains on it,\nAnd we'll break up another pile of junk;\nThen we'll drive like fury\nTo the Capilano Brewery,\nAnd boy! will we get drunk.\n21 Air: \"Casey Jones \"\n1. Come all you freshmen if you want to hear\nThe story of a brave engineer;\nHe started to college in the fall of thirty-three,\nWhy he took up engineering is a mystery to me.\nChorus :\nCasey Jones couldn't hold his liquor,\nCasey Jones couldn't hold his beer,\nCasey Jones never got through college\nHe never got through college 'cause he couldn't hold his beer.\n2. Casey Jones was the engineer's pride\nIn football or hockey he always saved his side\nHe was a whiz in classwork, his reports were always clear,\nBut he never got his parchment 'cause he couldn't hold his beer.\n3. Casey's career looked free from want or need\nThe dean would pat him on the back and say, \"You're bright indeed.\"\nHe came to grief as all youths do, ne'er became an engineer,\nAnd the reason for his failure was, he couldn't hold his beer.\n4. - The grand class held their dinner in the Red and White hall,\nThey all got pickled tight that night and Casey worst of all.'\nThey wired to his folks next day, the message read, \"Come here,\nYour son cashed in his chips last night; he couldn't hold his beer.\n5. Casey said, just before he died,\nTo the engineers who mournfully were standing by his side:\n\"Erect a tablet in the halls, engrave these letters clear:\nNever come to college if you cannot hold your beer.\"\n22 J#\nc\nommerce\nAir: \"The Desperado\"\nWhen we were the freshmen just new to Varsity\nWe wanted to join the bestest faculty.\nWe saw the Science sweaters\nAnd we saw the Artsmen's books,\nBut then we heard the Commerce give their War Whoop.\nChorus :\nFor we are bold bad men,\nWe are the men of Commerce,\nDrinking rye and gin and any booze around us,\nAnd stagger home with the sun upon us.\nSo come along and help us give our War Whoop.\nWe heard of Economics\n*\nAnd of Commerce 1 to 5,\nThe ledgers and the stat labs.\nKept us busy in our stride.\nBut when the day is over and the books are laid aside,\nThe Mall resounds with the Commerce War Whoop.\nBut now we are the Undergrads,\nAnother year has passed;\nKeep plugging at the balance sheets,\nThe exams will soon be passed.\nThen from east to west and from north down to the south,\nYou'll hear the men of Commerce give their War Whoop.\n23 Air: \"John Brown's Body'\n1. Oh, all the men of the Commerce Faculty\nWill drink wine and live in luxury,\nAnd all the girls will secretaries be\nAnd they'll sit upon the boss's knee.\nGlory, Glory, Hallelujah!\nGlory, Glory, Hallelujah!\nGlory, Glory, Hallelujah!\nThey'll sit upon the boss's knee.\n2. Henry Ford'll give us, all a Lincoln Zephyr car;\nHenry Ford's a Commerce man\u2014he knows what men we are;\nAnd in the Lincoln we will have a private bar\nWith a girl to serve us wine and caviar.\nGlory, Glory, Hallelujah!\nGlory, Glory, Hallelujah!\nGlory, Glory, Hallelujah!\nWith a girl to serve us wine and caviar.\n24 Adaption by\nProf. J. Stuart Blackie\nL\naw\nTraditional\n$\n*ft--f==g\nu Lfir\n*\n^\n1. 0\nIIS\nten\nof\nCom- mon and Stat-ute Law Doc-tors all.\nfrr\\ r a a\nSo - li - ci - tors,\nmm\n^^\n-\u00ab\n#\ngents, Ac - count-ants, to me;\nm\nj j i r\nj j ipf\nlis\nten, of strifes and of\nlaw\nsuit con - coc - tors all,\nP\n# #\n^\n:\u00df\nAnd\nI\ngive to\nChorus:\npoor starv\ning law - yer a\n\u2022 Spoken\nfee.\n* Ji J>\nT=5==F=i\nPP\n^to\nGive\nfee,\nGive a fee, Give a fee! O\ngive\nfee.\nBy permission from The Scottish Students Song Book\npoor starv - ing law - yer\n2. The soldier and sailor they dash on and splash on,\nAnd, sure of their pay, scour the land and the sea;\nBut we peak and pine here, and long, long years pass\nBefore our eyes blink at our first dollar's fee.\n3. The Church is an Eden of violets and roses,\nThe Bishop its Adam, from drudgery free;\nThe big burly priest on his soft down reposes,\nWhile we must still fag on, and cry, \"Give a fee!\"\n4. The quack he sells wholesale his pills universal,\nAnd straight waxes richer than the sagest M.D.;\nBut we still must con o'er the same dull rehearsal,\nAnd leave one or two old stagers to pocket the fee.\n5. Here sit I, all frozen; my youth's glowing visions,\nSee-saw like a Chinese joss or a Turkish Cadi;\nI seek for no learning beyond its decisions,\nAnd my soul's proud ideal is a bright shining fee.\n25\non, N\nursing\nAir: \"When Johnny Comes Marching Home\"\nThe nurses' Undergraduate Society,\nThe essence of unlimited propriety,\nwhen exams are done and merits won\nWe'll integrate and we'll correlate\nAnd we'll clarify the aims of the Nurses of U. B. C.\nOh-h-h-h ! ! ! (a deep groan)\nWe're the clever nurses of the N. U. S. B. C.\nWe're the dames that keep the patients from eternity,\nWe study hard for six long years\nWith blood and sweat and tears,\nAnd then we write R. N.'s.\nLectures are abominations, k\nBac. and Zo. are - tribulations,\nFinally examinations,\nBut the hospital beats them all,\nBy hec! (loud)\n26 Pre-Medicine\nH. M. Spoor\nTraditional\n5r#\n\u00f6 '\" \"^\u00bb\n1. I've been for\nyear at this Var - si - ty;\nknow\n$1\n^\n32\nI\njust what I\ndid when\nI came;\nI have - n't an\n\u00a3\n1\nm\n\u00a3\nhon - our's cer - ti - f i\n\"CT\ncate.\n!*\nChorus :\nI \u25a0 . II ^\nJ. 'J \u00bb \"J^\n>r a\nsin\ngle D.\n1=\nP. to my name.\nAnd I'm\ngoing to get\n$1\ntp\ntti\nploughed in A\nna\nto\n-X3\nmy,\n\u25a0\nI'm going to come\nm\nX*\ng\n?\nwa\u00ed - lop in Phys.\nI'm going to get pipped in Ma -\njfrJ' J' J IJ J J J*U J J IJ\n\u00e4\nte - ri - a,\nZ?\t\nIt's a ter - ri- ble nuisance it is, it is.\n2. I really can't think what the matter is,\nFor I work very hard, yes I do,\nStart work every morning at one o'clock,\nHave an hour for lunch, leave off at two.\n3. I'd do big things in Physiology,\nIf I only could think now and then,\nIf the Stannius Heart is a Rheocord\nOr a who or a what or a when.\n4. I've just had an oral from Cowan,\nAnd soon told him all that I knew,\nSaid the Femoral Vein was Astragalus\nAnd he said 'Thank you. Sir, that will do.\"\nBy permission from The British Students Song Book'. \u2022\n2R Air: \"The Broken Ring \"\nMy Opsonic Index is negative,\nI greatly fear I must die;\n\u00f6fter* require a restorative\nOf Scotch, or Irish or Rye. ,\nMy leucocytes are not digestive\nOf Staphylococci.\nThere's a boil no bigger than half a crown,\nTho' it feels as big as a score,\nit makes me sit up when I try to sit down,\nIt is so terribly sore.\nAnd 'tis sad to tell that I try to drown\nMy sorrows in nips galore.\nA Bacteriologist came one day\nWith sterilized lancet and all;\nHe pricked it and he carried away\nSome matter from that boy.\n\"A little fatter,\" I heard him say,\n'To grow on another soil.\"\nHe planted it Hi a jelly dish;\nIt flourished under his eye;\nSaid he, when I asked him, \"What is this?\"\n'They're Staphylococci\"\n\"Yes, yes,\" he murmured \"What more could one wish\nThan Staphylococci\nThose germs in strange serum with nicely washed\nLeucocytes he now incubated,\nAnd with oil immersion lens brought into view\nThe fact that each Polymorph fed\nOn a portion of Cocci, and so one drew.\nAn \"Index Opsonic,\" he said.\nThen serum from me for his Leucos he asked,\nA meal of my germs to prepare,\nBet they smiled at him as in sunshine they basked.\nFor not one Opsonine was there.\nThe Cocci smiled blandly as Polymorphs passed\nWith stolid amoeboid stare.\nBy permission from The British Students Song Book.\n28 With the ghost of a chuckle he gazed on the sight,\nThen took of a Rivary Syringe\nTo dose one with Cocci cream cooked \"a fa\" Wright,\nAnd told me my welfare would hinge\nOn whether my Leucocytes still took fright\nAt Cocci of golden tinge.\nMy wretched Opsonine will 'not revive,\nNo matter how often we try;\nThe boil is much better, but can I survive\nIf the man with the Cocci reply,\n\"You can only get well if your Leucocytes thrive\nOn Staphylococci.\"\nAnd now I could do with a drop of Scotch\u2014\nI like it much better than hy-\nPodermic injections of Coccial hotch, potch,\nAnd fain with my boil would I fly\nTo regions obscure where there's no one to tor-\nTure me with pickled Cocci.\nPublications Board\nAir: \"The Son of a Gambolier \"\nThere's a thriving kindergarten\nIn the depths of old Brock Hall,\nWhere they feed the kids on bottles\nFrom the time that they are small.\nThey sleep on gin-soaked Ubysseys,\nAnd is the lord\nOf the illegitimate children\nOf the Publications Board.\n29 { Soir\u00e9s o\u00ee the\nGreeks \u00e2\nAlpha Delta Pi\nFounded at Wtsleyan College, Georgia, in 1851.\nHe'll be down to get you in his fraternity buggy.\nBetter be ready 'bout a quarter of nine;\nNow, sister, look your best, 'cause,\nHe's got a frat pin on bis chest.\nOh, sing those songs the fraternities love\nAnd roll your eyes to the heaven's above,\nFor when he wants that certain styl\u00ab.\nHe'll get it in an A.D. Pi smile.\nTonight the moon will shine, little A.D. Pi, little A.D. P\nAlpha Gamma Delta\nFounded at Syracuse University in 1904.\nFloating down the river on a keg of brine,\nAlong came George Washington afloatin' down behind.\n'I'm cross in' the Delaware,\" says he to me,\n'To see my wife in Jersey who's an A.G.D.\"\nWhy should I wear the D.G. anchor?\nWhy should I wear the Kappa key?\nWhy should I wear the Pi Phi arrow,\nWhen I can wear the pearls and be an 'A.G.D.?\nThe Styx was mighty dark as I floated along,\nWhen up came Beelzebub a-singing a song.\nSays I to him \"Where'd you get that tune?\"\n'I got it from the Kappas when they rented their room.\"\nI climbed the golden stairs a-feelin' forlorn.\nThere sat Gabriel a-tootin' on his horn.\nI asked him for a tune and he played The Reverie,\nFor every little angel was an A.G.D.\n32 Alph\nmicron\nFounded at Barnard College, New York, in 1897\nNow when I came to college just a \u2014\nI met the cutest, little, sweetest little\nThey call 'em wonder babies.\nThey're as neat as da bies.\nshort time ago\n\u2014 Alpha 0,\nThey're the\nAnd when it\nYou should -\nThey're a\ncutest gals on the hill.\n- comes to dancin',\nsee them prancin',\nsolid bunch of hep cats\nAlpha Phi my own fraternity,\nIn all the years to come\nLet me show the silver and bord eau,\nUnder the shining sun.\nGreek letters bold,\nTo have, to love, to hold.\nI love you, Alpha Phi.\nNow talk about your cut\u00edes, those gals are really beauties,\nAnd when they walk by how the boys do sigh.\nNow that I'm an active in the A.O. Pi's,\nI know I'll be a true and loyal member until I die,\nOh, how I love those gals we're the best of pals,\nWe'll be friends forever I know.\nAlph\nFounded at Syracuse University, New York in \u00a1872 Delta Gamma\nFounded at Lewis School, Mississippi, in 1874.\nI have found my dream girl;\nShe's as sweet'as she can be.\nI have found the one I love;\nShe's all the world to me,\nShe wears the golden anchor\nAnd the bronze, the pink, and blue.\nDelta Gam\u2014I love you\nAnd to you I will be true.\nCollege memories linger,\nNever fade or disappear,\nAnchored till eternity\nWith lasting love so dear.\nWherever I may wander\nAll my thoughts will turn to thee,\nDelta Gam\u2014my dream girl,\nYou're the only one for me.\nDelta Phi Epsilon\nFounded at New York University in 1917.\nWe are in college,\nThe very finest college,\nBut our hearts are pledged to D. Phi E.\nWe love her forever.\nBreak faith with her never,\n0, her honours are plain to see.\nFor friends that are truest,\nAnd visions that are bluest,\nAnd bonds that last eternally.\nSo we drink up to college,\nWe drink up to knowledge.\nAnd we drink up to D. Phi E.\n34\nw Gamma Phi Beta\nFounded in Syracuse, New York, in 1874.\nI much prefer the peanut to the pear or artichoke,\nI'm very fond of olives, much more than other folk,\nI much prefer the crescent to the full moon, don't you see?\nBecause it is the symbol of my sorority.\nSo when I die, just put me in the ground,\nAnd plant pink carnations all around,\nFor in the Panhellenic world there's none so gay as I,\nThe reason is it's plain to see, that I'm a Gamma Phi.\nIl\nKappa Alpha Theta\nFounded at Depaw, Indiana, in 1870\nCome sit beside the hearth with me,\nIn the firelight's ruddy glow,\nAnd we'll dream of the lasting friendship\nThat only Thetas know.\nAnd when your hand slips into mine,\nOur hearts will throb anew,\nFor each, for all, at the Theta call,\nWith a constancy more true.\nThen here are greetings from all the Thetas\nFrom the heart for any call,\nFrom far and near we welcome her,\nWhom Black and Gold enthralls.\nAnd when the embers fade away,\nAnd the night steals into day,\nIn your tender eyes that shine,\nI will know that you are mine.\nWith a love that's always true,\nOur hearts will pledge anew,\nFor each, for all, at the Theta call\nWith a constancy mpre true.\n35\nI if\nKappa Kappa Gamma\nFounded at Monmouth College, Illinois, in 1870.\nWe are the actives of K.K.G.,\nSomeday good graduates we hope to be,\nD.G. anchor, Theta kite\nBid us but we just weren't their type,\nGamma Phi Beta and Alpha Gam,\nFor them we simply don't give a dam.\nSo give three cheers for K.K.G., the bestest fraternity.\nRAH RAH RAH\nThe blue and the blue are the colours Ve wear,\nThe fleur-de-lis is seen everywhere,\nPhi G's, Phi Delta's, Psi U's, Zetes,\nAlways take Kappa's for their dates,\nFrom Eastern Maine to our Varsity,\nAll campus belle's wear small golden key,\nSo give three cheers for K.K.G.,\nThe bestest fraternity.\nPhrateres\nFounded at the University of California in 1924.\nA toast now to Phrateres,\nThat's a toast to you.\nLet us pledge allegiance,\nTo the Gold and Blue.\nOur friendships for each other\nLet us now renew,\nA toast now to Phrateres,\nThat's a toast to you.\n36 ty>l i i11 r il* J' j j\nzCJ\nTo the Blue and the Gold of Phra - te - res, To the\n$\u00dc\nS=5\n\u00a3\nF?^\ni^\n1\nspi rit of true friend li - ness, To the wealth of our\n_j\u2014&\u2014 1 ^\u2014j,\u2014 Alpha Delta Ph\ni\nFounded at Hamilton College, Ohio, 1832.\n1. We Come, We Come, We Come with a shout, and a song,\nSinging as we go marching on,\nWe are a merry happy-go-lucky throng\nIn Alpha Delta Phi, Phi, Phi, Phi.\n2. We're the chosen band, united by true friendship's tie,\nSwell the joyous strain, to meet the echoes from on high,\nListen to our song, we sing as we go marching by,\nRye, Rye, Alpha Delta Phi.\nI\nAlpha Tau Omega\nFounded at the Virginia Military Institute, Richmond, Virginia, in 1865.\n1. There are some who praise the diamond's blaze,\nAnd the ruby's blood-red hue.\nWhile others praise the opal's rays\nOr the sapphire's deep, dear blue.\nThere are those who delight in the topaz bright,\nOr the pearl with its quiet gloss;\nBut brighter far is each radiant star,\nThat we set in our Maltese Cross.\nChorus:\nOh, Alpha Tau Omega, our hearts are ever thine,\nWe set them as the jewels in the Maltese Cross to shine,\nTo these we pledge allegiance, our service true and bold,\nAnd ever we'll be loyal to the Azure and the Gold.\n2. There are hearts that shine with dazzling light,\nWhile some burn clear and strong.\nAnd each and all, both great and small,\nTo thy service shall belong.\nSo here at thy feet is an offering meet,\nThat is loyal, firm and free,\nAnd here we swear by the cross we wear,\nTo protect and honour thee!\n38 Beta Theta Pi\nFounded at Miami University, Ohio, in 1839.\n1. Ye sons of Beta, raise your voices,\nJoin one and all to swell the song!\nWhile every loyal heart rejoices\nThe sounding chorus to prolong,\nThe sounding chorus to prolong.\nIn grateful praise your voices blending\nTo her whose radiant badge we bear.\nAnd in whose mystic rites we share,\nWorthy our grateful praise unending.\nTo Beta Theta Pi,\nBeta Theta Pi,\nA chorus ringing high,\nringing high,\nA song, a song, a song, a song,\nFull loud and long,\nand long\nTo Beta Theta Pi.\n2. Extol in song fair Beta's glory,\nHer noble aims, her purpose high.\nLet brothers young, and brothers hoary,\nGive praise to Beta Theta Pi,\nGive praise to Beta Theta Pi!\nHer tender love and care untiring,\nThe peerless honor of her name;\nThe splendor of her spotless fame,\nIn every heart her song inspiring. if\nPhi G\namma\nDelt\na\nFounded at Washington and Jefferson University in 1848.\nWhen college songs and college lays\nAre faded with their maker's days;\nWhen Sol's swift wheels have made us old.\nAnd college life's a tale that's told.\nPhi Gamma Delta, still to thee our hearts will turn eternally,\nPhi Gamma Delta, still to thee our hearts will turn eternally.\n\u00bfS,\n#. \u00a1\u00a1\u00a1I\nquqii)\nPhi Kappa Sigma\nFounded at the University of Pennsylvania in \u00a1850.\n1. When all the world awakens with the silent dawn,\nThe moonbeams steal away before the rising hue,\nEach little flower welcomes the hour,\nThat brings them the sunshine and you.\nDearest girl. My Phi Kap girl,\nI love but you alone,\nWhen you are near,\nBlue skies appear,\nTell me that I may call you my own.\nWithin my heart, enshrined apart,\nYour image seems to shine,\nYou'll always be a sweetheart to me,\nPhi Kap girl of mine.\n2. When song birds sing their melodies in summer time,\nYou wander in my Und of dreams the whole day through,\nTho' clouds arise, darken the skies,\nRemember that I'm loving you.\n40 Ou-\nIL.\nKappa Sigma\nFounded at the University of Virginia in 1869.\nThere's a vision ever present\nWhen we're 'neath the Star and Crescent,\nOf a girl whose loveliness is like a pearl.\nHer smile and lilting laughter\nWill light our lives hereafter,\nAnd keep us always dreaming\nOf a Kappa Sigma Girl.\nYou're my Kappa Sigma Dream Girl,\nQueen of my castles in Spain,\nBrightest star that gleams 'neath the Crescent,\nYou're the rainbow that follows each rain.\nLovely Kappa Sigma Dream Girl,\nTell me, O tell me that soon,\nForsaking all others,\nSave Kappa Sig brothers,\nYou'll be mine 'neath the Kappa Sig moon.\nPhi Delta Theta\nFounded at Miami University, Oxford, Ohio, in 1848.\nHail, Hail, Phi Delta Theta!\nHail to the Bond we love !\nMay peace and concord rule her,\nWhere'er her sons may rove.\nHail, Great Brotherhood, all hail!\nThrough thy years that shall not fail,\nMay thy growing greatness be robed in spotless majesty.\nThe years pass on as shadows;\nSoftly they sink to rest,\nAs one by one our brothers\nAre folded close to nature's breast.\nYet as the sand of ages runs,\nMay a race of nobler sons,\nFaithful as the stars above, raise the standard we love.\n41 Delta Upsilon\nFounded at Williams College, New Jersey in \u00a1834.\nI\n1. Come, brothers all, your glasses fill,\nAnd drink this health with right goodwill;\nFor here's a toast both brave and true,\nOur own beloved Delta U!\nAnd he that will this health deny,\nDown among the dead men, Down among the dead mon,\nDown, down, down, down,\nDown among the dead men let hint lie.\n2. Now, here's to all throughout the land.\nWho in our ranks fraternal stand;\nWhose aims are high, whose hearts beat true,\nBeneath the royal Gold and Blue!\n3. And here's a health to ladies fair,\nWho faithfully our colors wear;\nMay every blessing wait upon.\nThe girls of Delta Upsilon!\n4. Now, brothers, here is one toast more,\nThe Delta U's of \"Thirty-four,\"\nWho firm in truth and equity.\nEstablished our Fraternity.\n42 Psi Upsilon\n^f\nFounded at Union College in Schenectady, New York, in 1833.\nBold and ready, strong and steady,\nDaylight is done,\nGather 'neath the old Fraternal Banner\nBlazoned with Psi Upsilon.\nDiamond and golden,\nGleams the badge our hearts joys,\nNew and olden.\nKindle with the grasp of love.\nFrom the rattle, from the battle,\nNow the restful peace of blest communion,\nVictory is won;\nAt thy shrine, Psi Upsilon.\nPure, warm, and loyal,\nHonor's soul and virtue's grown,\nEach brother royal\nFighteth for a king's renown.\nSigma Chi\nFounded at Miami University, Oxford, Ohio, in 1855.\n1. When the world goes wrong, as it's bound to do\nAnd you've broken Dan Cupid's bow.\nAnd you long for the girl you used to love,\nThe maid of long ago.\nWhy, light your pipe, bid sorrow avaunt,\nBlow the smoke from your altar of dreams,\nAnd wreathe the face of your dream girl there,\nThe love that is just what it seems. Chorus:\nThe girl of my dreams is the sweetest girl\nOf all the girls I know.\nEach sweet co-ed, like a rainbow trail,\nFades in the after glow.\nThe blue of her eyes and the gold of her hair\nAre a blend of the western sky;\nAnd the moonlight beams on the girl of my dreams,\nShe's the Sweetheart of Sigma Chi.\nEv'ry magic breeze wafts a kiss to you\nFrom the lips of your \"sweet sixteen\",\nAnd one by one the maids you knew\nBow to your meerschaum queen,\nAs the years drift by on the tides of time,\nAnd they all have forgotten but you,\nThen the girl of your dreams the sweeter seems,\nShe's the girl who is always true.\nSi^ma Phi Delta\nFounded at the University of Southern California in \u00a1926\nWe're Sigma Phi Delta,\nWe're the men who build the bridges and the piers;\nWe're Sigma Phi Delta,\nWe're the Engineers who drank the forty beers.\nWe always lead the way!\nWe always do or die!\nSo give three cheers for the Engineers,\nThe men of Sigma Phi!\n44 Zeta Beta Tau\nFounded at the College of the City of New York in \u00a1899.\nHere's to our fraternity,\nMay it live forever.\nMay we always faithful be, '\nAnd its bonds ne'er sever.\nWith our standard raised on high, boys,\nWe'll be loyal to our Z. B. T.,\nEver loyal to our Z. B. T.\nLet us raise our glasses, boys,\nAnd pledge our friendship ever,\nThough life may have its cares and joys,\nThat friendship we'll ne'er sever.\nIn life's sorrow and its sad nessln its joys and in its gladness,\nWe'll be brethren of the Z. B. T.,\nAlways brethren of the Z. B. T.\nLord of Heaven and of Earth,\nKeep watch o'er us ever,\nFill our hearts with love and mirth,\nLet our bonds ne'er sever.\nBy the heav'n that smiles above us,\nBy the faith of those that love us,\nGod protect our Z. B. T.,\nGod protect our Z. B. T. r\nZeta Psi\nFounded at New York University in \u00a1847.\n1. Standing in the hall of mystery\nWhere the candle bright\nKeeps the flame of friendship burning\nIn our hearts tonight\nHand to hand we form the chain\nLoyal Zetes and true\nPledge we all our hearts fond memory\nZeta Psi to you.\n2. Zealous for a Zete's tradition,\nProud to hold it high.\nLove and honour inter-mingled\nIn our Zeta Psi.\nHand to hand we form the chain\nLoyal Zetes and true;\nPledge we all our hearts' fond memery\nZeta Psi, to you.\n46 Son\u00e9s of the\nGown Student Song\nof the Middle Ages\nGaudeamus Igitur\nTraditional\nTins is the great-grandfather of all student songs. It originated in Germany during the Middle Ages, and\nwas carried by the medieval \"wandering students\" to every university in Europe.\n)&^33^^LUJiAJi=\u00b1\u00e0gLt^=M\n1. Gau - de - a - mus i gi tur, ju ve- nes dum su mus:\n6\ntrri \\r.7^+^^ rr-~rj\u00a3ff\u2014-^\nGau - de - a - mus i - gi - tur, ju - ve - nes dum su - mus:\nm^T=fF=t\nPost ju -cun - dam ju - ven - tu - tern, post mo -les - tarn se- nee - tu - tem,\np\u00e9 m ^fp r^\nJ *> I 4 J +\nNos ha - be - bit hu\nmus, nos ha - be - hit hu - mus.\n2. Ubi sunt qui ante nos, in mundo fuere?\nUbi sunt qui ante nos, in mundo fuere?\nVadite ad su peros, transite ad inferos.\nUbi jam fuere, ubi jam fuere.\n3. Vita nostra brevis est, brevi finietur;\nVita nostra brevis est, brevi finietur;\nVenit mors velociter, rapit nos atrociter,\nNemini parcetur, nemini parcetur.\n4. Vivat Academia, vivant Professores,\nVivat Academia, vivant Professores,\nVivat Me m brum quod I i bet, vivant membra quae \u00dcbet,\nSemper sint in flore, semper sint in flore !\n5. Vivant omnes virgines, faciles, formosae,\nVivant omnes virgines, faciles, formosae,\nVivant et mulieres, dulces et amabiles,\nBonae, laboriosae, bonae, laboriosae!\n6. Vivat et respublica, et qui illam regit:\nVivat et respublica, et qui illam regit:\nVivat riostra civitas, Maecenatum caritas,\nQuae nos hic protegit, quae nos hic proteg\u00ed t!\n48\n7. Pereat tristitia, pereant osores,\nPereat tristitia, pereant osores,\nPereat diabolus, quivis antiburschius,\nAtque irrisores, atque irritores! Traditional\nAmici\nAir: \"Annie Lisle'\nVtJ- i\nfm\nrr~jiJ >j ^\n^\n1. Our strong band can ne'er be bro-ken It can nev - er die;\n$\nlltrJ. J> 'J'pl\n\u25a0)\u25a0 pr \u00abIl -1\nFar sur-pass - ing wealth un-spo- ken Seal'd by friend-ship's tie.\nChorus:\nflfr p g f -JLii=g\nJ J 1 J\n\u00cd\nA - mi - ci, us - que ad - a - ras, deep grav-en on each heart,\n$&l )r J'\n4\na\nj i '\u25a0 ,f r j\nXX\nShall be .found un - wav -'ring, true, When we from lite shall part.\n2. College life is swiftly passing,\nSoon its sands are run,\nBut while we live we'll ever cherish\nFriendships here begun.\n49 Oh, College Days\nTraditional German Student Song\nOne of the oldest and best known German studtnt songs. According to tradition,'when the third\nverse is sung the members of the Applied Science, Arts, Law, Theological and Medical Faculties\nrise and sing their respective lines alone.\nj J on\np^\nwm^^m\n1. 0\ncol\nlege days, 0 glo - rious days, That lie so far be\nfflu j * J i j jf fir\n-hind\nus.\nHow free - ly once your jo-cund ways, We trod, with none to\n4*'J J HJI-J- J J r |\u00e7p^^\nI\nbind us!\n4\nmmmm\nBut now, we seek for\nyou in vain. Nor\nChorus:\n i j j =i=i\n- dear urn,\nO quae mu - ta\n2. Now cap and gown lie in the dust,\nThe pigskin is forgotten.\nThe hoops are eaten up with rust,\nThe racket's strings are rotten!\nOur famous deeds have had their day,\nOur choruses have died away.\nOh dear-o-dear-o-dearum, etc\nti - o re - rum!\n3. There's one who spends his dreary days\nIn solving an equation,\nOne writes critiques of wretched plays.\nOne toils at litigation,\nOne thunders at the sinful soul.\nAnd one its shattered house makes whole.\nOh dear-o-dear-o-dearum, etc\n4. Then let us, comrades, now, and friends,\nJoin hand to hand, in token\nOf loyalty that never ends,\nAnd kindly words unspoken.\nThen lift your sparkling cups on high;\nHere's to the faith that shall not die,\nHere's to a pledge unbroke\nHere's to a pledge unbroken!\n0\u00b0\u00b0\u00a9 0\u00b0 \u00b0\u00b0\u00b0\nBy permission from The British Students Song Book\n50 Words by\nDr. David Rorie\nA Chequered Career\nAir: \"Oh, Dear, What Can\nthe Matter Be?\"\n\u00a1^\n\u00c9\u00fc^\ni > J'i J\u00bb\n*Nf\n\u00ef\n1. When I\nfirst was a ci - vis I stu - died Hu - man. i ty,\n\u00cd\n\u00cd\nm\nm\nCos and Sine show'd me Life's\nut\nter\nin - an\ni - ty,\n|\n^\nJ' J1 J\u00bb J'e\u00a3\n^=\u00a3\n^\nHe - gel and Kant prov'd that all things were van - i - ty,\nfe\n^\nAll save\nChorus.\nche - quer'd ca\nreer;\nife\n\u00cd\nffi\nIf the map of your life in the deuce of a tat - ter be,\ni ja J j r^\nEv' - ry one ask - ing, \"Pray, who may your\nhat - ter be?'\nP\nJ\u00bb \/ J> J 1^\n\u00a3\nFor - tune re - fu - sing to smile and to flat - ter, be\n$\nm\n^\nm\npleas'd with a\nche - quer'd ca - reer.\nSo I next had a shy at what men call Divinity, 4.\nThat sort of thing for me had no affinity,\nB. D. I left for who chose to win it, I\nKept on my chequer'd career!\n5.\nBehold me now one of the Faculty Legal\nAnd learning the Science of trick and inveigle,\nBut in it there's more of the vulture than eagle;\nMuch better a chequer'd career!\nAt note-book and pencil by no means a raw-bones,\nI landed at last in the midst of the Sawbones;\nThrough hosts of smashed legs and excised upper\njaw-bones\nI kept on my chequer'd career!\nIn dreams I oft wonder what next I may\nchance to be\u2014\nFiji Prime Minister? Marshall of France to be?\nBashi Bazouk with a ten-foot-eight lance to be?.\nStill on my chequer'd career!\nBy permission from The Scottish Students Song Book.\n51 f\nRiding Down From Bangor\nAnon\nTraditional\ndfefe S S * S \u25a0!\u25ba-->\u00bb-* -4 S\u2014S; r\u2014 \u2014 \u00ef-y-x . K \u00ef y-\nm^-*-^1-**\u2014*\u2014\u00e9\u2014\u2022-*-:\u2014+\u2014\u00bf^-^\u2014ip-^-\u00ef*-?-\u00bb-*-\n1. Rid-ing down \u2022 from Ban-gor. On an east- em train,. \"Af- ter weeks of\ni\n\u00d6\n^\nhunt- ing In the woods of Maine; Quite ex - tens-ive whis-kers,\n4 P f jl J'lr^lj- j> j\u00bb \/I ^' -J' * IJ1* j j* j*i ^ *\u25a0\nBeard, mous-tache as well, Sat a stu-dent fel-low, Tall and slim and swell.\n2. Empty seat behind him.\nNo one at his side,\nInto quiet village,\nEastern train did glide.\nEnter aged couple,\nTake the hindmost seat,\nEnter village maiden,\nBeautiful, petite.\n3. Blushingly she falter'd:\n\"Is this seat engaged?\"\nSees the aged couple,\n\u00bfProperly enraged.\nStudent's quite ecstatic,\nSees her ticket through,\nThinks of the long tunnel.\nThinks what he will do.\nI\nPleasantly they chatted,\nHow the cinders fly!\nTIN the student fellow\nGets one in his eye.\nMaiden, sympathetic,\nTurns herself abqut,\n\"May I, if you please, sir,\nTry to get it out?\"\nThen the student fellow\nFeels a gentle touch,\nHears a gentle murmur,\n\"Does it hurt you much?\"\nWhiz! slap! bang!\nInto tunnel quite.\nInto glorious darkness,\nBlack as Egypt's night.\nOut into the daylight\nGlides that eastern train,\nStudent's hair is ruffled,\nJust the merest grain.\nMaiden seen all blushes,\nWhen then and there appeared\nA tiny little ear-ring\nIn that horrid student's beard. When I Was a Student at Cadiz\nTraditional\n1\nTraditional\nm\nj> i j\u00bb J' J*\nL^JJAA\n1. When was\na stu\ndent at Ca - diz.\nm\nI played on my\n\u00a3\nK=tF\njs^Jry^a\n\u00ab\nI Span - ish gui - tar, ching, ching!. | used to make love to the la-dies,\n\u00a7^\n^i\n\u00c9\u00c9\u00c9\nChorus:\nthink of them still from a - far, ching, ching!\n^\n1^\n^E*^\nRing, ching, ching! Ring, ching, ching! Ring out, ye bells! Oh\nt\n*\u00a3\n\u00a5\ni\n=j?\u2014in-^\n\u00a1\nring out, ye bells!\nOh ring out,\nye bells!\nP\u00a1\u00a1\nI .LU?\u2014J\nfc==fr\nH\u00e4\n^\nRing, ching, ching! Ring, ching, ching! Ring out, ye bells! As I\n\u00ed\u00c9Pe\u00c9\n\u00c9\nR_\u00bf I\n\u00cd\nplay\non\nmy Spa - nish gui tar,\nching, ching!\n2. I was four years a student at Cadiz,\nWhere nothing one's pleasure can mar, ching, ching!\nAnd where many a beautiful maid is,\nOh I strumm'd and I twang'd my guitar, ching,ching!\n3. Oh I sang serenades there at Cadiz,\nTill I got an attack of catarrh, ching, ching!\nThough no more I could serenadize,\nStill I played on my Spanish guitar, ching, ching!\n4. When at last the train bore me from Cadiz, 5. I'm no longer a student at Cadiz,\nThe ladies all wept round the car, ching, ching! But I play on the Spanish guitar, ching, ching!\nOh it grieved me to part from those ladies, And still I am fond of the ladies,\nBut I carried away my guitar, ching, ching! Though now I'm a happy papa, ching ching!\nBy permission of Chappel and Co. Ltd. Traditional\nMeersch\neerscnaum\nPipe\nTraditional\nP\n^\n*\nOh, who will smoke my meer - sch\u00e4um pipe, meer-schaum pipe, Oh,\n\u25a0^\"J. |r J* J ir ^r f r ir i3\nO *\n1. I'm Pi - erre de Bon-ton de Par - is, de Par- is, I drink ze di\n*\nl\u00fbt\nh:\nJ'J'ir r f\n30t\nvine\nEau de vie. Eau de vie, When I walk in ze park, All les\ni\nJ J. J\n^\n\u00cd\ni\ndames zay re - mark. \"Comment ca va, mon cher a - mi?'\n\u201e. Chorus:\nm\nE\n^\nBut I care not what oth - ers may say,\nS\nIm\nin\nlove with\nsa - lie,\n$\nfr ^s-\\\nPr\u00eat - ty Rose,\ncharm\u00bb.\nmg\nJ | J J C | J \"\u00ab^Hj\ni\n-\u20acH\nRose,\nI'm\nin love with my sweet Ro - sa - lie.\n2. I'm Pierre de Bonton de Paris, de Paris,\nI'm called by les dames tr\u00e8s joli, tr\u00e8s joli,\nWhen I ride out each day in my little coupe,\nI tell you I'm somesing to see.\n3. I go to ze f\u00eate de Marquise, de Marquise,\nI go and make love on my knees, on my knees,\nI go to her p\u00e8re and demand for my own.\nThe hand of my sweet Rosalie. The Spanish Cavalier\nW. D. Hendrickson\nW. D. Hendrickson\n\u00d6\nJj-^-J-\n\u00a1te\n\u00bb\ns\ni\n1. A Span ish cav - a - lier stood in\nhis re - treat. And\n$Uu >r r ip if J \u00ef\n^s\non his gui- tar play'd a tune, dear; The mu - sic so sweet, would\n$tf\u2014t\u2014*-jr}\\j\u00bft*t$!>ft\\\u00bf J\n$1\nof - times re - peat\/The bless\u00ab ing of my coun-try and you, dear.\nChorus:\n\u00a3\n6\nm\n^\n\u00cf\n^m\nSay, dar - ling, say, when I'm far a - way, Some-times you may think of\n$\nE\n\u00bf\nm=p\ni\nr f t r\nme, dear;\n$\nH^\nBright sun * ny days will soon fade a - way, Re\n*\nj\u00e2^^*f\nmem - ber what I\nsay\nand be true,\ndear.\n2. I am off to the war; to the war I must go,\nTo fight for my country and you, dear;\nBut if I should fall, in vain I would call,\nThe blessing of my country and you, dear.\n3. And when the war is o'er, to you I'll return,\nBack to my country and you, dear;\nBut if I be slain, you may seek me in vain,\nUpon the battlefield you will find me.\n56 The Hon. Mrs.\nCaroline Norton\nJuanita\n^\nOld Spanish Air\nOriginally an old Spanish ballad, the English words were composed by the grand-daughter of the famous\n\u00a18th Century Irish playwright, Richard Brinsley Sheridan.\nffi%J_JtJ>rJ J * 1Jl^\u00a33=J!|J> p^b\u00ed\n1. Soft o'er the foun - tain, Ling - 'ring falls the soutn \u2022 em moon:\nJ\n-JUI J J > I J' J\u00bb J j\nFar o'er the moun - tain. Breaks the day too s000'\n^m\n^m\ni\n\u00e9s\nIn thy dark eyes' splen - dour, Where the warm light loves to dwell.\n0* J>\u00c9b^-g-LfuM^^^\nZU\u2014L\nWea-ry looks, yet ten - der, Speak their fond fare - well!\nNi - ta! Jua\nni - ta!.\ni\nAsk thy soul if we should part!\n\u00a3\nm\nm?\n^m\na \u25a0\nI\nNi - ta! Jua\nni - ta!\nLean thou on my heart.\n2. When in thy dreaming,\nMoons like these shall shine again.\nAnd daylight beaming\nProve thy dreams are vain.\nWilt thou not, relenting,\nFor thine absent lover sigh,\nIn thy heart consenting\nTo a prayer gone by?\nNita! Juanita!\nLet me linger by thy side!\nNi ta! Juanita!\nBe my own fair bride. ir\nWords by Heinrch Heine\nTranslated by F. W. Farrar\nThe Lorelei\nMusk by\nFriedrich Si Icher\n$\u00ca\nj p J \u00bf i m\n1. I know\n*\n0- m\nft\u2014\\\u2014fe\nS^\nnot why, but my gtad ness Hath\n3 J* f>^\nFF??\n\u00bb\u00ab\u00fc\u00bb^\n\u00cd\nut - ter - ty pass'd a - way,\nAnd my spi - rit is tUl'd to\n$\n\u00c9\nE^t\nR=J>\nJ ' il \u2014^\nfcS\nsad - ness With the lilt of an old\nen lay.\nThe\n*\n1 J f J> -JLJI\n\u00cd\nPP\nair\nis dew \u2022 y and dark - ling, And calm - ly flow\u00ab eth the\nkj, J.._ J J\n^\n^^\nRhine;\nThe crest of the\nhills\nis spark\nling,\n0\nmm^\n^^i\ns^Z\nIn the\nros - as\nof\nF\ne \u2014\nven - shine.\nThere sitteth a maid in the gloaming,\nA maiden divinely fahr;\n'Mid the gleam of her gems sha is combing\nThe curls of her golden hair.\nFrom a golden comb she is raining\nHer tresses, and sings from on high,\nA passionate, soul-enchaining,\nInvincible melody.\nThe sailor, with wild pangs thrilling.\nIs chain'd by the magic tone;\nThe breakers his skiff are filling;\nBut ha gazeth on her alone.\nAh ma! in the surge descending.\nHe is swept with his little boat;\nAnd such is aver the ending\nOf the Lorelei's witching nota.\nBy permission from Tb* Scottish Students Song Book\n58 The Broken\nWords by\nJoseph von Eichendorff\nAdaptation by F. W. Farrar\nRing\nMelody from F. Gl\u00fcck\n1. Where loud the mill - wheel roar - eth A mid the flash - ing\n$n~FUTT ~r \u00bfm\n*\nm\nfoam,\n*= =*= =\u25a0\nThe maid my heart a - dor\n'.'\u00cfL to\neth Had\n^\n1TTT^\\\nthere her old\nen\nhome.\nThe maid my heart a\n^fc^\u00a32^^ j i j\u2014\u00b1^\u00bf\u2014-11 j\\^j^a\ndor\neth\nHad there\nher old - en home.\n2. She gave a true-love token.\nShe breathed a plighted vow;\nThat ring she gave is broken,\nThat troth is slighted now.\n3. I long where blood is streaming\nTo clash in fiery fight,\nAnd by the camp-fires gleaming\nTo lay me down at night.\n4. I long to cleave the billow.\nMy wronged heart to beguile,\nThe heaving wave my pillow,\nMy port some lonely isle.\n5. But when the mill-wheel boometh\nNo hope, no change can cheer;\nDespair my soul consumeth,\nAnd death alone is dear.\n6. Death, of the friends I number\nThe kindliest and the best,\nIn thee the wronged ones slumber,\nIn thee the weary rest.\nBy permission from The Scottish Students Song Book\n59 Hans Leip\nLili Marlene\nN. Schultze\nThis song, the most popular in the German Army, was \"liberated\" by the British St h Army when they annihilated the German African Corps in the Libyern Campaign.\n$*e\u00ef | m y j -j i j- \u00b1\u00b14 i\n1. Un - dewieath the Ian\ntern\nby the bar - rack gate,\nJT7X7 T~7' JI * J ^^\nDar\nling.\nre\nmem- ber the way you used to wait;\nTwas\n^m\np^^\n^m^ =\u00a1m\nm\nthere that you whis - pered ten - der - ly. That you lov'd me. You'd\n3\n\u00ef J f\nP\nJ\nways be My Li\nli of the\nlamp - light. My\nown\nLi\n1 J-\nm\nli Mar\nlene.\n2. Time would come for roll-call, time for us to part,\nDarling, I'd caress you and press you to my heart;\nAnd there 'neath that far-off lantern light,\nI'd hold you tight.\nWe'd kiss \"Good-night,\"\nMy Lili of the lamplight,\nMy own Lili Marlene.\nOrders came for sailing somewhere over there,\nAll confined to barracks was more than I could bear;\nI knew you were waiting in the street,\nI heard your feet,\nBut could not meet\nMy Lili of the lamplight,\nMy own Lili Marlene.\nResting in a billet just behind the line,\nEven tho' we're parted your lips are close to mine;\nYou wait where that lantern softly gleams.\nYour sweet face seems\nTo haunt my dreams,\nMy Lili of the lamplight,\nMy own Lili Marlene.\nI\nBy permission of The Peter Maurice Co. Ltd.\n60 My Heart\/ It Is a Bee-hive\nTranslated by\nDavid, C. T. Mekie\nGerman Folk Air\n\u25a0f^ U\u00b1\u2014j^M ^J' ' 'j\n1. My heart\nis like a bee\nhive;\nThe\nty J- F \u00a3 j> J1 J'\n\u00ef\nmaid - ens there - in are the bees;\nThey\n$\n7r~r^=t\n\u00fb\n%\nin and they fly\nout,\nAnd,\nwm\nW^^\n\u00c9\noh?\nChorus :\nthey dear - ly love\nto\ntease.\nT-M^S\n~\\\n=3=^\nP^\nSo\nin\n^\nthe cham - ber of my heart,\nThey buzz and\n*\n#\ni p f r\n*\nsting me, oh! Buzz buzz, and sting me, oh!\nThey buzz and\n0\n=p=\nm\nW-\nsting,\noh! buzz and sting,\nThey buzz and\n3^m\nm\nsting; They buzz\nand\nsting.\n2. They fly out and they fly in,\nThose darling little bees that sting,\nAnd yet upon their tender iips\nThe honey sweet they ever bring.\n3. There's one I fain would call my Queen,\nFor her I love above them all.\nIf she would but return my love.\nShe'd reign alone\u2014I'd be her thrall.\nBy permission from The British Students Song Book\n61 Luigi Denza\nFuniculi, Funicula\nLuigi Denz\u00e0\nA song written in \u00a1880 by the composer of \"Santa Lucia\" to commemorate the opening of the Funicular\nRailway to the top of Mount Vesuvius.\nSolo:\nfo J>ir- Tr f i J'UUJl^LJ-I j t j\n1. Some think\nI\nthe world is made for fun and frol - \u00a1c,\t\nChorus: .Solo:\nj j\u00eeU \\r *J ju-^-*i\nTTir?\nAnd so do I!\nAnd so do I!\nSome\n0 V ^\nthink Jm\nTo pine and sigh,\nit well to be all mel - an - chol - ic,\n Chorus : J'\nI Solo:\npi\nTo pine and sigh,\nm ^m wm ^#j .m\u00fc^h\nR\u00ab* 1 1 \u00cdOVe *\u00b0 \u00abp\u00ab\"d my tim\u00bb in\nm Chorus:\n\\J \u2014 \u2014|-^ 1 '\u2014 1-\nsing ing\nSolo:\ng^ ji-^^^si^^1^\nsome joy - ous song,\nk| \u00bfJ\u2014KJ j\nSome joy - ous song;.\nTo\nm =m\nJ J* J J l J. j.--i\nset\nthe air with mu - sic brave - ly\nChorus:\nring \u2022 ing\nJ| C P\u00cd\/T IH \u2022\t\n$\nChorus:\nIs far from wrong!\nis far from wrong!\nS\n^\n3\nLis - ton!\ni^r-f^ F\nJ i-late \u00fc\u00e4t\n17\nLis - ton! Mu \u2022 sic from a - far! Lit - ten!\nl^l j-T-zir f^ZfGE^ m J P^\nLis - ten! Mu - sic from a - far! Tra*~ la - la - la. Tra - la - la\nReprinted by kind permission of the copyright owner, G. Ricordi and Co. Full song copies with piano accompaniment\nare obtainable through their agents Mettes. Whaley, Royce and Co. Ltd., Toronto.\n62 i\nla, Tra - la - la - la?\nTra\nla\nla - la,\ni^ r f J |? I J \u00df\n^P\nJoy \u00a1s ev - 'ry - where, Tra - la - la - la, Tra- la - la - la.\n2. Some think it wrong to set the feet a-dancing,\nBut not so I !\n( Chorus ) But not so I !\n(Solo) Some think that eyes should keep from coyly\nglancing\nUpon the sly!\n(Chorus) Upon the sly!\n(Solo) But oh! to me the mazy dance is charming.\nDivinely sweet!\n(Chorus) Divinely sweet!\n(Solo) And surely there is nought that is alarming\nIn nimble feet!\n(Chorus) In nimble feet!\n(Solo) Ah, me! 'tis strange that some should take to\nsighing,\nAnd like it well!\n(Chorus) And like it well!\n(Solo) For me, I have not tho't it worth the trying,\nSo cannot tell!\n(Chorus) So cannot tell!\n(Solo) With laugh, and dance, and song, the day soon\npasses,\nFull soon is gone,\n(Chorus) Full soon is gone;\n(Solo) For mirth was made for joyous lads and lasses\nTo call their own!\n(Chorus) To call their own!\nfh*\u00b0\n'Jk-fr\n63 Abdul Abulbul Amir\nAli Baba\nFrank Crumit\n^m^^^m\nLJfUL\nP\n1. The sons of the Pro- phet are brave men and bold, And quite un\u00bb ac-\nI\n\u00a3\no-s-\n7n~7Jg\ncus- tomed to fear.\nBut the brav\u00bb est by far in the\nte\nr-JTj-\u00a1~^J JTTTTP\nranks of the Shah\nWas Ab - dul A - bul - bul A\nmir.\n2. If you wanted a man to encourage the van\nOr harass the foe from the rear,\nStorm fort or redoubt, you had only to shout\nFor Abdul Abulbul Amir.\n3. Now the heroes were plenty and well known to fame\nIn the troops that were led by the Czar,\nAnd the bravest of these was a man by the name\nOf Ivan Skavinsky Skavar.\n4. He could imitate Irving, play poker and pool,\nAnd strum on the Spanish guitar,\nIn fact quite the cream of the Muscovite team\nWas Ivan Skavinsky Skavar.\n5. One day this bold Russian had shouldered his gun,\nAnd donned his most truculent sneer,\nDown town he did go, where he trod on the toe\nOf Abdul Abulbul Amir.\n6. \"Young man,\" quoth Abdul, \"has life grown so dull\nThat you wish to end your career?\nVile infidel, know, you have trod on the toe\nOf Abdul Abulbul Amir.\"\n7. Said Ivan, \"My friend, your remarks in the end\nWill avail you but little, I fear,\nFor you ne'er will survive to repeat them alive,\nMister Abdul Abulbul Amir.\"\nBy permission of Ascherberg, Hopwood and Crew, Ltd., the owners of the coypright\n64 8. \"So take your last look at sunshine and brook,\nAnd send your regrets to the Czar,\nFor by this I imply you are going to die,\nCount Ivan Skavinsky Skavar.\n9. Then this bold Mameluke drew his trusty skibouk,\nWith a cry of \"Allah Akbar,\"\nAnd with murderous intent he ferociously went\nFor Ivan Skavinsky Skavar.\n10. They parried and thrust, they side-stepped and cussed,\nOf blood they spilled a great part;\nThe philologist blokes, who seldom crack jokes,\nSay that hash was first made on that spot.\n11. They fought all that night 'neath the yellow moon's light,\nThe din, it was heard from afar,\nAnd huge multitudes came, so great was the fame,\nOf Abdul and Ivan Skavar.\n12. As Abdul's long knife was extracting the life,\nIn fact he was shouting \"Huzzah,\"\nHe felt himself struck by that wily Calmuck,\nCount Ivan Skavinsky Skavar.\n13. The Sultan drove by in his red-breasted fly.\nExpecting the victor to cheer,\nBut he only drew nigh to hear the last sigh\nOf Abdul Abulbul Amir. -\nT4. Czar Petrovitch too, in his spectacles blue,\nRode up in his new crested car.\nHe arrived just in time to exchange a last line\nWith Ivan Skavinsky Skavar.\n15. There's a tomb rises up where the Blue Danube rolls,\nAnd 'graved there in characters clear,\nAre, \"Strangers, when passing, oh pray for the soul\nOf Abdul Abulbul Amir.\"\n16. A Muscovite maiden her lone vigil keeps,\n'Neath the light of the pale Polar star,\nAnd the name that she murmurs so oft, as she weeps,\nIs Ivan Skavinsky Skavar. I Wish I Were Single Again\nTraditional Traditional\n#*f\nh fr h\n1 J\u201e J'l \u00ab^\nE?\n\u00ab\n1. Oh! once I was sin\u00abgle, and then. Oh! once I was sin-gle, and\nj-1 r t t f ^ ;' i f f r jM\nai \u2022 m\nthen\/\nOh! when I was sin - gle my pock - ets did jin - gle; I\nChorus:\nN' J' \u00ef-^\u00ef J* I J; J |\nis h is\n^TT\nwish I were sin - gle a - gain.\nA \u00bbgain and a-gain and a\nff j. j f i ; j j ; i j> u-. .J j,\ngain,\nA - gain and a - gain and a - gain,\nOh!\ntif-t t 9 F Jl ^ ' F F I\nwhen I was sin - gle my\npock - ets did\nflu\nwish\njin - gle;\nmm\nII\nI\nwere sin - gle\nI married a wife, oh, then\nI married a wife, oh, then\nI married a wife\u2014the plague of my lift;\nI wish'd I were single again.\nAgain and again and again.\nAgain and again and again.\nI married a wife, the plague of my life;\nI wish'd ^ were single again.\n5.\nMy wife took a fever, oh, then\nMy wife took a fever, oh, thon\nMy wife took a fever; I hop'd 'twouldn't leave her;\nI long'd to be single again.\nAgain and again and again.\nAgain and again and again.\nMy wife took a fever; I hop'd 'twouldn't leave her;\nI long'd to be single again.\ngain.\nMy wife, she died, oh, then\nMy wife, she died, oh, then.\nMy wife, she died, and I laugh'd till I cried\nWith joy to be single again.\nAgain and again and again,\nAgain and again and again.\nMy wife, she died, and I laugh'd till I cried\nWith joy to be single again.\nI married another, oh, then\nI married another, oh, then\nI married another, far worse than the other,\nAnd long'd to be single again.\nAgain and again and again,\nAgain and again and again.\nI married another, far worse than the other,\nAnd long'd to be single again.\nBy permission of Francis. Day and Hunter, Lid.\n66 Anon.\nIS\nThe King of the Cannibal Islands\nAnon.\nm\n3^\u00a3\n\u00fc\nh- h 'N h\nm j: jj.~rr*^B\nmm\n*-\u2022\u2014ei\n1. Oh, have you heard the sto - ry of late A * bout the roy - ai po - ten-ta te, For\n^rfTr^^^^^^-f-ftf^\nif you have not it's in my pate, 'Bout the King of the Can-ni-bal Is-lands\nChorus:\n\u00a3\nt\nwm\ni\ni\nei *\nHo - key po - key win - key wong, Par-ley ma-goo ga-goo ga-gong;\nHang-a-ree rang-a-ree ching-a-ree chong, The King of the Can-ni-bal Is-lands.\n2. His kingdom stretched for miles and miles\nAround about the surrounding isles,\nAnd his subjects sharpened their teeth with files,\nLike the King of the Cannibal Islands.\n3. His Majesty was black as sin,\nBut that didn't seem to matter to him,\nFor that was the colour he'd always been,\nHad the King of the Cannibal Islands.\n67\nHis subjects hunted on the coast\nFor crocodiles to catch and roast,\nAnd serve to him for tea on toast\nTo the King of the Cannibal Islands.\nOne day while waiting for his tea,\nA coco-nut fell from a neighbouring tree,\nAnd bonked his Cannabalic Majesty,\nThe King of the Cannibal Islands.\nmammmm\n\u25a0\u2014\u25a0 Anon.\nJohnny Verbeck\nAnon.\n^'cji \u00bf- f xir (?\u2022 g Ir c\u00a1 ffa \u00bf~w\u00df\n1. There was a lit - tie Dutch-man, His name was John-ny Ver-beck, He\nlj,i)'J? J\u00bb I J\u00bb J? J\u00bb J; j>|j. ^^e\ntook to mak - ing saus - a - ges and sau - er-kraut and speck.. He\nty-j> j j; j'\u00bf \u00e7, r tir^Lp- h\nmade the fin-est saus- a - ges that e - var you did see, And\nS\none day he in - vent - ed a saus - age mak-ing -ma- chine.\n- Chorus:\nk\nu^m\nF g ir \u00edf'P\nOh, Mis - ter, Mis-ter Johnny Ver - beck,how could you be so mean?\nty\" a | J'. J' j\u00bb. J J: J' J'- J>\nL^J~-fl\nI told you, you'd be sor - ry for in - vent-ing that ma-chine. Now\n$^^^=r g r it i~r^R' f \"^^P\nall the neigh-hours' cats and dogs will nev - er more be seen, They've\n^\n\u25a0ZZZJMG\u2014ZZTZZjBL-Z\u2014Jad-L^Z. ~ \u00bb_\n*=s\nEE3\nt=^\u00a3j \u00bf r^t\nall been ground to saus - age meat in John- ny Ver-beck's ma-chine.\n2. One day a little Dutch boy came walking in the store,\nHe bought a pound of sausages and laid them on the floor.\nHe then began to whistle, he whistled up a tune,\nAnd all the little sausages, they danced around the room.\n3. One day the old machine broke down, the darned thing\nwouldn't go,\nSo Johnny Verbeck, he crawled inside to see what made it so.\nHis wife, she had a nightmare, came walking in her sleep,\nShe gave the crank a beck of a yank, and Johnny Verbeck\nwas meat!\n68 The Ground-Gopher's Hole\nTraditional Traditional\np\n^m\n1. Oh, I\nW^^\nput my foot in the ground -go - pher's hole, The Anon,\nThe Goat\nAir: \"And When I Die'\nThere was a man*, now please take note;\nThere was a man who had a goat,\nHe loved that goat, indeed he did.\nHe loved that goat just like a kid.\n2. One day that goat felt frisk and fine;\nAte three red shirts from off the line.\nThe man, he grabbed him by the back,\nAnd tied him to a railroad track.\n3. But when the train hove into sight,\nThat goat grew pale and green with fright.\nHe heaved a sigh, as if in pain,\nCoughed up those shirts and flagged the train.\n* Each phrase repeated, as in \"And When I Die.\" Anon.\nJohnny Fell Down the Bucket\nAnon.\n&\nS\nh S b h\n\u00a3\nai\u2014m\nf-f-f-p-^\n#\nI. John-ny fell down the buc-ket, The buc-ket fell down the well, His\n\u00a3LOaU\u00a3NT|\nI -I\nwife cut the rope on the buc - ket, And John-ny fell down in - to\n( Chorus:\nChing-a- ling- a-ling, ching-a - ting - a - ling, Ha, ha, ha, ha!\ntyn J ^T^tttt-^T^^^}\nThese were the words which we heard from a-far; Ching-a - ling -a - ling,,\nJBSfef\u00c9\n^^\n*t\nmm\nching-a - ling - a - ling,\nm\nte\nHa, ha, ha, ha! To the\nJ fJJ |\ntune of our\nlight gui - tar.\n\"CT\nHa, ha!\n\u2022 ' s\n2. When Johnny got down into \"uh-uh\/\nHe met with a terrible slam.\nHe stepped on a red-hot shovel,\nAnd uttered the words: \"I'll be \u2014\n3. When Satan heard him a-swearin',\nHe clapped him right into a cell.\nHe said, \"I'm a jolly good fellow,\nBut I don't allow swearing in !\"\n71 p\nAdapted from\nLongfellow's Poem\n\"Excelsior\"\na \u00a1L Solo :\nUpid\nee\nj\u00bb\nTraditional\n^\n\u00a5\n\u00a3 J>]> i>\nChorus :\n3=nj f J J'\n^^\nSolo:\n1. The shades of night were fall - ing fast, (J. - pi - dee, U- pi-da, As.\nChorus: . Solo:\nI\nfefefc\nJ I J j? J J\u00bb J 77\nthrough an AI - pine vil - l\u00e4ge passed, U - pi - dee - i - da, A\n$\nm^\nJ' J1 ' f f\n\u00ef=R\ne\nP\n*\nyouth, who bore 'mid snow and ice, A ban-ner with the strange de - vice :\nu Chorus:\nJ=Z\nM J ipftWlrfa\u00eb\u00ab;\n4-f-P-f P P r= \t\nU-pi-dee - i-dee- i -da, U-pi-dee, U-pi-da! U-pi-dee-i-dee-i-da, U-pi-dee-i-da!\n*\n;fm-jjjjjj.ShEm\nr- r-r^-r- r * r- r- r-r* r-r-r- r-r- r*r - r -r-r-r- r-r-r-r-yah! yah! yah! yah!\nU- pi-dee- i -dee- i -da, U-P'-dee, IKpi-da!\n2. His brow was sad, his eye beneath\nFlashed like a falchion from its sheath,\nAnd like a silver clarion rung\nThe accents of that unknown tongue:\n3. \"0 stay,\" the maiden said, \"and rest\nThy weary head upon my breast.\"\nA tear stood in his bright blue eye,\nBut still he answered with a sigh:\n4. At break of day as heavenward\nThe pious monks of Saint Bernard\nUttered the oft-repeated prayer,\nA voice cried through the startled air:\n5. A traveller, by the faithful hound,\nHalf buried in the snow was found,\nStill grasping in his hand of ice\nThat banner with the strange device:\n72\nU - pi-dee\u00ab- \u00a1*dee- i-da, U- pi-dee-i-da ! Michael Finnigin\nfflfcj. I J! J* j i1 * I f--P\u2014^ J J\nPI\n1. There was an\nS h\nold man named Mi - chael\nFin\nm - gm,\nPP\n\u00a3\nHe grew whis - kers on his chin\n% m m J* \"ft N I\u2014h K\ngin, The wind came up and\n(shout)\nblew them\ni - gin, Poor old Mi + chael Fin\nni - gin begin-igin.\n4.\n5.\nThere was an old man named Michael Finnigin,\nHe got drunk through drinking ginigin.\nThus he wasted all his tinigin,\nPoor old Michael Finnigin begin-igin.\nThere was an old man named Michael Finnigin,\nHe kicked up an awful dinigin,\nBecause they said he must not sinigin.\nPoor old Michael Finnigin begin-igin.\nThere was an old man named Michael Finnigin,\nHe went fishing with a pinigin,\nCaught a fish but dropped it inigin,\nPoor old Michael Finnigin begin-igin.\nThere was an old man named Michael Finnigin,\nClimbed a tree and barked his shinigin,\nTook off several yards of skinigin,\nPoor old Michael Finnigin begin-igin.\nThere was an old man named Michael Finnigin,\nHe grew fat and then grew thin-igin,\nThen .he died, and had to begin-igin,\nPoor old Michael Finnigin begin-igin.\n73 -PW-.\nTraditional\nOn Niela Moor Baht 'at\nTraditional\nIn Yorkshire dialect \"baht 'at\" means \"without a hat\". It is said that this song was written after a murder\nhad been committed on Ilkla Moor. The only clue was that a strange man \"without a hat\" was seen in the\nvicinity.\nSoU>: Chorus:\nW\u00ea\nmm\nm\n\u00a3\n1. Wheear 'as tha bin sin' ah saw thee?\nSolo:\nOn Ilk\n- la\nh \u00abU J J\nP^\u00ca\n\u00d6\n:oc\n#\nMoo\nr.\nbaht\n'at.\nWheear 'as tha bin sin' ah saw thee?\nm\n\u00a3^\u00a3\n2\nChorus:\nWheear 'as tha hin sin' ah saw\nthee?\n^m^m^\nPPEf\u00a5P\nOn Ilk - la Moor baht 'at,\nOn Ilk - la Moor baht 'at.\nf r \\t' |g\nXJ:\nOn\nIlk - la\nMoor baht\n'at,\n2. Tha's bin a-coortin' Mary Jane.\n3. Tha'll go and get thy deearth o' cowld.\n4. Then we s'all 'av' to bury thee.\n5. Then t' wormsll coom an' ate thee oop.\n6. Then t' doocksll coom an' ate oop t' worms\n7. Then we shall go an' ate oop t' doocks.\n8. Then we shall all 'av' etten thee.\n9. That's wheear we gets our oahn back.\n74 Traditional \\Y\/JaW:-~ kA^L'AJ* 19th Century\nWaltZing IViatllaa Australian Bush Song\nIn Australian bush slang,.a swag-man meant a hobo, a billabong was a water hole in a dried up\nriver bed, waltzing Matilda was the bundle tied on a stick by a hobo, a jumbuck was a small\nlamb, a Coolibah tree was a Eucalyptus tree, a tucker bag was a knapsack, and a squatter was a\nsheep farmer on a large scale.\n$\nte\nP3.ULI J^Nr-Ip\n1. Once a jol - ly swag - man sat be - side the bill-a-bong, Un-der the\n$m\npTTp p r^F^^-^>i j. j\nshade ot a coo - li - bah tree,\nAnd he sang as he sat and\n\u00cf\n\u00a3~jr~\u00d1\nPP\n*\n?\nwait\ned by the bil\n*\na - bong, You'll come a - waltz - ing, Ma -\nChorus:\nW\u00a3\nw\n^=p==p=ti\ntil - da, with me.\nWaltz - ing Ma\ntil\nda, waltz - ing Ma\n|\n\u00c9\u00ca\nS\nfr=>\nPlgp^=P=i=PE\u00caEE\u00a3=fiP\ntil - da, You'll come\nwaltz - ing, Ma\ntil\nir a\nda, with me, And he\n$\nm\nm$\n*=*\n^j\u00bb j i j j> J\\\nsang as he sat and wait - ed by the bill- a-bong\u00edVou'll come a\nPP\n\u00cf\n- waltz - ing, Ma - til - da, with me.\"\n2. Down came a jumbuck to drink beside the billabong,\nUp jumped the swagman and seized him with glee.\nAnd he sang as he talked to that jumbuck in his tuckerbag,\n\"You'll come a-waltzing\/Matilda, with me.\n3. Down came the squatter, riding on his thoroughbred,\nDown came the troopers, one, two, three.\n\"Where's the jolly jumbuck you've got in your tuckerbag?\n\"You'll come a-waltzing\/Matilda, with me.\n4. Up jumped the swagman and plunged into the billabong,\n\"You'll never catch me alive,\" cried he.\nAnd his ghost may be heard as you ride beside the billabong,\n\"You'll come a-waltzinqfMatilda, with me.\nCopyright 1936 by Allen and Co. Prop. Ltd., Melbourne, Australia. International Copyright secured.\nThis arrangement copyright 1941 by Carl Fischer, Inc., New York. International Copyrigh secured. Reprinted by permission.\n75 Green Grow the Rushes, Ho!\nTraditional\nA i Solo:\nJ>\nTraditional\nChorus :\n&t=t*\nm\ns 1\np\nSPP\nmW\nm m\nh\u2014*\u25a0\n1. I'll sing you one* ho! Green grow the ruslves-ho! What is your one \u00ab ho?\nSolo :\nh h h\nh h h\nP P P f\nf^\n-\u2022\u2014#\nOne is one and all a - lone and ev-er - more shall be so.\nChorus:\nae\nJ j if F\" F F PP if J\nP\nI'll sing you two - ho! Green grow the rushes, ho! What are your two-ho?\nSolo:\n\u00ed^\u00c9\n\u25a0 \u00e9^aT^\u00e0-\n\u00a3\n*si&\nTwo y two the IHy white boys, cloth - ed all in green - ho.\nChorus.\n\u00f1u vDorus:\t\nW p p e r j J1 J J1\nh N P> ^\nat \u25a0 at\n^=^f\nOne is one and all a - lone and ev - er -more shall be so.\nSolo: Chorus :\n\u00c9\nj. If '> E P-P f If \u00abNijlp\nI'll sing you three- ho! Green grow the ruslves-ho! What are your three-ho?\ni. Solo: i Chorus :\t\n1 It lj-f>\nSE\n1*=\u00a3^\nai e>\nThree, three the ri - vals,\nTwo, two the li - ly white hoys,\n* F \u25a0 F P P\nppp^=\u00a3^=\u00ef\n\u2022 aJ\nCloth - ed all in green - ho! One is one and all a - lone and\nSolo: Chorus:\nI^J'JJ1 J J. J If J J' J \u00bfIfL-PlFip f\nev-er-more shall be so. I'll sing you four-ho ! Green grow the rush-es-ho!\n<^\n^\n76 tyk f J' J J - i 11 t g F f f f\nWhat are your four - ho?\nChorus:\nFour for the Gos - pel mak - ers,\n\/ P f \u25a0 F\nm J- j j j> ^\nThree, three the riv - als,\nTwo, two the lily white boys,\n4\u00a3l P P p -O J 11? P p F J\u00bb-JU\u00a3 J* I\nCloth - ed all in green - bo! One is one and all a - lone and\n#\nSoto\/\nif J! J j T\n\u00a1\n^^\nev - er - more shall he so.\nI i Chorus :\nIK\nsing you five - ho!\np- p r^\u2014tr\u2014r\n\u00ed\n\u00dc\u00dc|\nI\nGreen grow the rush - es bo! What \u00bbn your five - ho?\n5. Five for the symbols at your door, and\n6. Six for the six proud walkers,\n7. Seven for the seven stars in the sky, and\n8. Eight for the April rainers,\n9. Nine for the nine bright shiners,\n10. Ten for the Ten Commandments,\n11. Eleven for the eleven went up to heav'n,\n12. Twelve for the twelve Apostles.\n77 Ben Jonson\n(1573-1637)\nDrink to Me Only\nTraditional\nThe poem is based on expressions in the Letters of Philostratus written in the 3rd Century. The origin of\nthe melody is unknown, but it was not used tsitb the poem until the middle of the 18th Century.\nmm\n*==+\n*w#\n$\n1. Drink to me on - ly with thine eyes, And I will pledge with\nb. . , in K K I h i f-! K r-1 hi , r^ K I t i j\nm\n&=v\nfr^n Mite\nm m\n^9\nmine;\nP\n*^m\nOr leave a kiss but in the cup And I'll not look for\nf=*m\nf-f-f+f-f\nwine\nThe thirst that from the soul doth rise, Doth ask a drink di\nL*r-n\\* J' J\u00bb J JlJ3 JT3:\nvine:\nBut might I of Jove's nee-tar sup, I would not change for thine.\n2. I sent thee late a rosy wreath.\nNot so much honouring thee,\nAs giving it a hope that there\nIt could not withered be.\nBut thou thereon did'st only breathe,\nAnd sent'st it back to me;\nSince when it grows, and smells, I swear,\nNot of itself, but thee. , The Lincolnshire Poacher\nTraditional Old English\n^^^pppp\nwmm\n1. When I was bound ap - pren - tice, in fa - mous Lin - coin\n4 hi J J'\nf\u00ebf\nJ>|J J'TTj'\n^\n\u00cd\nshire,\nFull well I serv'd my mas te ter for more than sev - en\nfon1^' r \u25a0\u25a0 Flr\"'F^\"^'j jl;'j^\nyear, Till I took up\nChorus:\nto poach - ing, as you shall quick-i-ly\n^=K\nf^*\nhear; Oh, 'tis my de - light\n=mm^\non\na shin - ing night, in the\ni*=\nJ J> J\nsea - son of\nthe year!\n2. As me and my companions were setting of a snare,\nTwas then we spied the gamekeeper\u2014for him we did not\ncare,\nFor we can wrestle and fight, my boys, and jump o'er\nanywhere.\n3. As me and my companions were setting four or five,\nAnd taking on 'em up again, we caught a hare alive,\nWe took the hare alive, my boys, and through the woods did\nsteer.\n4. I threw him on my shoulder, and then we trudged home.\nWe took him to a neighbour's house and sold him for a\ncrown,\nWe sold him for a crown, my boys, but I did not. tell you\nwhere.\n5. Success to every gentleman that lives in Lincolnshire,\nSuccess to every poacher that wants to sell a hare,\nBad luck to every gamekeeper that wilt not self his deer.\n79 -* Traditional\nEarly One Morning\nTradition;\nH j \/JJ^LU i p i>i-r-7t-p^\n1. Ear - ly one morn - ing, just as the sun was ris ing I\n^ JL J\nheard a maid\nChorus:\n=\u00a3 mr^m4\nsing in the val \u2022 ley be low:\nj' \/ J i O I\n'Oh, don't de - ceive\nme;\nOh, nev - er\nleave\nme:\n^J^J\nHow could you use\npoor\nmaid\nen so!\n2. \"Oh, gay is the garland, and fresh are the roses,\nI've cull'd from the garden to bind on thy brow.\n3. \"Remember the vows that you made to your Mary,\nRemember the bow'r where you vow'd to be true.\n4. Thus sang the poor maiden, her sorrows bewailing,\nThus sang the poor maid in the valley below.\nJ The Lass of Richmond Hill\nW' Upton J. Hook\n*m\n$\n1. On Rich-mond Hill there lives a lass, More bright than May - day\ni=i= =r^= -r- I i N S SI r^H F I ~~ft\u2014\n^^\nmorn.\nWhose charms all oth - er\nMi\nmaids\nChorus.\nsur - pass,\n* I J J' J'\nmj ti 'j\nrose with - out a thorn.\nThis lass so neat, with\nffi J1. j> j> J IV J p_\u00bf_U\nV . * -M\nsmiles so sweet, Has won my \"right good - will,\nI'd\n\u2022\nf j | j\u00bb J\u00bb ^^\nP^P\ncrowns re - sign to\ncall thee mine, Sweet lass of Rich - mond\n^\nf>\n\u00e0g=\u00c9\nIr^\nHill,\nSweet lass\nof Rich - mond Hill,\nSweet\nff-*-*-\n\u00ef\\\u00ef i\nP^P\nlass of\nRich - mond Hill.\nI'd crowns re - sign to\nrJN^P\nI\nm\nX\ncall thee mine, Sweet lass\nof\nRich - mond Hill.\n2. Ye zephyrs gay that fan the air,\nAnd wanton thro' the grove,\nO whisper to my charming fair,\nI die for her I love.\n\u2022-.\u25a0-.\n3. How happy will the Shepherd be\nWho calls this nymph his own,\nO may her choice be fixed on me.\nMine's fixed on her alone.\n81 Traditional\n82 Songs of Revelry\nj Traditional\nSolo:\nVive L'Amour\nTraditional\n^m\nr r f f\ns\np\n1. Let ev - 'ry good fei - low now\nChorus: Solo:\nfill up his glass.\nrf f P r\nf f f f\nve la com\npa\ngnie!\nChorus :\nAnd drink to the health of our\n\u00c9i i norus : \n*\u00bf J J j n7~f f i\nglor i\nChorus:\nous class.\nVi - ve la\ncom\npa\ngnie!\nr F r r r f\nVi - ve la, vi - ve la, vi\nve\nmour!\nVi\nve la, vi - ve la,\nm\nj\\(f(f \u25a0'ip F r r \u00bbliJ'JJ yp\n\u00a3=zt\nVi-ve l'a - mour! vi-ve l'a-mour! vi - ve l'a-mour! Vi-ve la com- pa - gnie!\n2. Let every good fellow now join in a song,\nSuccess to each other and pass it along.\n3. Come all you good fellows and join in with me.\nAnd raise up your voices in close harmony.\n4. With friends all around us we'll sing out our song,\nWe'll banish our troubles, it won't take us long.\n5. Let every married man drink to his wife.\nThe joy of his bosom and plague of his life!\n6. Come fill up your glasses; I'll give you a toast.\nHere's health to our friend,-\u2014our kind, worthy host.\n7. Since all with good humor you've toasted so free,\nI hope it will please you to drink now with me.\n8. Oh, why does a flea jump around with a flea?\n'Cause one is a he and the other's a she.\n84 There Is a T\nere is a tavern in\nthe T\nown\nAdapted from a Cornish\nFolksong\nTraditional\n$&*\u00b1\nv\n$\n1. There is\na tav - ern in the\ntown, in the town, And\nW\n#\nm^\n\u00a5\nthere my dear love sits him down, sits him down,\nAnd\n$\nJ. l'\\i J J\nm\n ^'~S\t\nr icJ\u00fc\"\n^\ndrinks his wine 'mid laugh ter free. And nev - er, \u25a0 nev-er thinks of\nChorus:.\nJ> j\\ j> J* J* J> J* j\u00bb m\nme.\nFare thee well, for I must leave thee, Do not\n$\n-* J' J' \u00abr\nji f r r F\nm\nlet the part - ing grieve thee, And re - mem - ber that the best\n*\nI. JW' J*\nP\nof friends must part.\nmust part. A - dieu, a -dieu, kind friends, a\n%\nJ- J\u00bb\n^\ndieu, a - dieu, a - dieu, I\ncan\nno\nlong - er stay with\n^\n^\nmm\nt^^t\nwm\nyou, stay with you,\nI'll\nhang my harp on a weep-ing wil - low\n4 J- (T I J- * * J * ^^\ntree, And\nmay\nthe world go well with thee.\n2. He left me for a damsel dark, damsel dark,\nEach Friday night they used to spark, used to spark.\nAnd now my love, once true to me,\nTakes that dark damsel on his knee. 3' 0h! di9 \"* 9rave ^ wlde and deeP'wlde and deeP'\nPut tomb-stones at my head and feet, head and feet,\nAnd on my breast carve a turtle dove.\nTo signify I died of love.\n85 H\u00e8res Health Unto His Majesty\nTraditional\nJeremy Sa vi Ile (1670)\n\u00c9\nA song popular during the Civil War between the Cavaliers and the Roundheads\nSOU): t ft Chorus\nj j J JI J. JJ7-M\n1. Here's a health un\nSolo:\n- to his Ma - jes* ty, With a fal lal la la la\nChorus:\n3n\nla la! Con - fu - sion to his \u00e9n- e-mies,With a fal lal la la la\n i J' J\u00bb J1 \u00abi\nfal lal la la la la, la la fat la\n!\u00bb J J J\nfal lal la la la\n2. All Cavaliers will please combine,\nWith a fal lal la la la la la!\nTo drink this loyal toast of mine,\nWith a fal lal la la la la la!\nIf any-one should answer \"No,\"\nI only wish that he may go\nWith Roundhead rogues to Jericho,\nWith a fal lal la la la la la la la la,\nWith a fal lal la la la la la.\nHere's a health unto his Majesty,\nWith a fal lal la la la la la!\nSuccess to all his policies,\nWith a fal lal la la la la la!\nAnd he that will not drink this toast,\nI only hope the traitor's ghost\nWill go to whom the Roundheads roast,\nWith a fal lal la la la la la la la la,\nWith a fal lal la la la la la.\n86 Down Among the Dead Men\nJohn Dyer (1700-1758) Traditional\nA song popular during the Georgian Period.\niftW j1 J11 r p up r ^\n^\n1. Here's a health to the King and a last - ing peace, To\n4\n\u00c8\n^m\nj >i r t r\n^\nfac - tion an end, to wealth in - crease! Come, let's drink it\n$\nm\nN S\nff3=?\n^\nwhile we have breath, For there's no drink - ing af - ter death. And\nChorus :\n$_\u00ef || jT-jyt^f\nt\nf \u00bbF f_-g\nI\n\u00ef\nhe that will this health de - ny,\nb-=fc\nDown among the dead men,\nmm\n^\n33\nDown a - mong the dead men, Down, down.\ndown,\n$\nm\nF F' bfrJ'. J\nFor to-night well me*-ry, meiwy be,\nm* } }\\J aj\nMM P-PP-^\nFor to-night well mer-ry, mer-ry be, To-mor \u00abrow well be so - ber.\n2. The man who drinketh small beer,\nAnd goes to bed quite sober,\nFades as the leaves do fade,\nThat drop off in October.\n3. The man who drinketh strong beer,\nAnd goes to bed right mellow.\nLives as he ought to Ihre,\nAnd dies a jolly good fellow.\n4. But he who drinks just what he likes\nAnd getteth half-seas over,\nWill live until he die, perhaps,\nAnd then lie down in clover.\n5. The man who kisses a pretty girl,\nAnd goes and tells his mother,\nOught to have his lips cut off.\nAnd never kiss another.\n88 ^\nGerman Student Song\nTranslated by Oambambuli\nProf. J. Stuart Blaclue\nRecipe for Crambambuli: \"Take two bottles of light porter or ale and boil them in a pan. Then\nput in half a pint of rum or arrac, and from half a pound to a pound of loaf-sugar. After this has\nboiled for a few minutes, take from the fire and put into the mixture the white and the yellow of\nfrom six to eight eggs, previously whisked properly into one homogeneous mass. Then stir the whole\nfor a minute or two, fill into a punch-bowl and drink out of tumblers. It tastes equally well cold\nor hot.\"\nm\nw\nm\n\u00ef^S\nE\n1. Cram - bam - bu - li,\nMy pan - a - ce-\nthat is the\na's in the\nbea\nquor That\nker, For\nfires the blood, makes\nev - 'ry ill that\nbright\nearth\nthe\ncon\nbrains,\n- tains.\nAt\n$\nmm\nwm\n0\u20140\nmorn - ing bright, at noon, at \u00bbnight. Cram-bam-bu - li is my de-light\ni\nm\n$=$=m\nr -i r ; - \u25a0\nCram - him - ba\nm\nbam - bu - \u00edi, Cram - bam - bu - li.\n2. When on the road mine host receives me\nLike some great lord or cavalier,\nNo fuming roast or boil deceives me,\n\"What, gar\u00e7on, ho!\u2014the cork-screw here!\"r\nThen blows the guard his taranti,\nTo my good glass Crambambuli,\nCrambimbambambuK, Crambambuli.\n3. When queasy qualms torment me sadly,\nAs some vile imp my soul possessed;\nWhen heaped distempers goad me madly.\nColds in my head, coughs in my breast1\u2014\nSir Doctor, devil take your drugs!\nWhy, don't you see our merry mugs\nBright with Crambambuli, Crambambuli.\n4. Were I the Kaiser Maximilian,\nA noble order in the land,\nI'd make and write in bright vermilion \"\nThis motto on a silver band\u2014\nBy permission from The Scottish Students Song Book. 39\n'Toujours fid\u00e8le et Sanssouci,\nC'est l'ordre de Crambambuli,\nCrambimbambambuli, Crambambuli.\"\nWhoso at us Crambambulisten\nProudly turns up his churlish nose,\nHe is a heathen and no Christian,\nFor God's best gift away he throws;\nThe fool may bawl himself to death.\nI will not give, to stop his breath,\nOne drop Crambambuli! Crambambuli!!! Brothers, Circle Round in Chorus\nTranslated by Melody by\nProf J. Stuart Blackie J. G. W. Schneider\n&B\n\u00e1\nj I J- -j J i\n3\u00c9\n1. Bro\nthers. cir\ncle round\nin cho\nrus.\nt\ni*\ns\ni^P\nJ I I J J I\nSing\nas sang\nour sires\nhe - fore\nus,\nto\n^\n^^\n\u00e4\nas\nQuaff\nyour glass - es,\nraise\nyour\nver - ces\nft\u00bb -L *\n\u00a3\nTo\nour\nglo\n^\n:o\nrious li\nber - ty!\n^\n2. To all lovely maidens fill we!\nChaste as charming may they still be!\nPour a sparkling bright libation \u2014\nTo all maidens now drink we!\n3. Men who moved our hearts to duty,\nTaught us wisdom, showed us beauty,\nWhom we honour, whom we follow,\nFill to them with three times three!\n4. And, when life's harsh toils are over,\nUnder lime-trees' cooling cover,\nBrother brave shall meet brave brother,\nAnd remain for ever thus.\n5. When I cross the dingy ferry,\nTrusty Charon, in thy wherry,\nO then, one last draught restoring\nGive for my last obolus!\nBy permission from The Scottish Students Song Book.\n90 Edite, Bibite\nFrom bUII^ UIUIIC From\nKindleben's Studentenliedern Methfessel's Commers und Liederbuch\n(1781) , \u00a1 (1818)\nfe\nj i j n j\ni\n\u00e4\n\"X\n1. Loud let the glass - es clink,\nDrink deep, nor\ntfft J1 i > -mM\ni\nr\u00bb #\niP^\nspare the flow - ing bowl! The man who fears to\nChorus:\ndrink\n^ r - 0 w-Ff * i r J1 j -i J- J j j r r p\nHas no true soul.\nE - di - te, bi - bi - te, col - le - gi\njftfc r r \u00bb i\u2014r\u2014r r '^ J'Jij' \u00ab^u J'\u00bb\na - les,\nPost mul - ta sae - cu - la, po - cu - la nul - la.\n2. This is the student's hour,\nThe stern professor's work is done;\nWe own no other pow'r\nSave wine and song.\n3. Here rules the rosy god;\nExalt old Bacchus to his throne,\nAnd, drawing round the bowl.\nServe him alone.\n4. Enjoy, while powers remain.\nLife's pleasures in their prime;\nOld age brings-not again\nYouth's golden time.\nBy permission from The Scottish Students Song Book.\n91 Translated by\nD. G Morton, Arts '49\nThe F\narmer\nNorwegian Student Song\n$\n\u00fb\nmM\n3\n*\u00a5\nx>\n1. There was\njol - ly, old farm\ner once,\nWho\n$\nm\nm\nm=^^m\nwas go - ing out af - ter beer,\nWho was go\n^mM\nm\nChorus:\nmg\nj j i r =\nm\n:0\nout af - ter beer.\nWho was go - ing out af\n^\nmg\nter\n-M^ff\nm\nbeer, af - ter beer, af - ter hops\nsa - sa, Tra\nh\nty ,) J | J^r^\nI\n\u00e2\nW^^\nla,\nWho\nwis go\ning\nout af - ter beer,\n2. A student came to the farmer's wife 6.\nWhile the farmer was out after beer,\nWhite the farmer was out after beer,\nWhile the farmer was out after beer, etc.\n3. The student tickled her under the chin,\nAnd kissed her and called her his dear,\nWhile the farmer was out after beer,\nWhile the farmer was out after beer, etc.\n4. BUT the farmer stood behind the door,\nWhere everything he could hear.\nHe hadn't gone out after beer.\nNO! he hadn't gone out after beer, etc\n5. He took his wife and the student, too,\nAnd throw them out on their ears,\nAnd then he went out after beer,\nYES,! then he went ont after beer, etc\nThe moral is: take your wife along\nIf you're going out after beer.\nIf you're going out after beer,\nIf you're going out after beer, etc.\n92 The Devil\nSwedish Student Song\nTranslated by\nD. C. Morton, Arts '49\nIn order to get the full effect of this song the table should be struck thus J\u00ef J^1 J with one's tankard\nor fist at the end of lines 1. 2, and 4,\n^^\nisi at me ena of m\nmm*\nJUL- j-\u00a3\n1. When you wan - der to the ta - ble free from care,\n\u2014b srr\nEv\nry\nPm\u00a3\n?\nP^i\nI\nthing your hun - gry stom - ach craves is there,\nf^\nAnd to\nff r if r p j^jj- jij; i^mm^\u00df\nquench the flames of thirst that fire your throat as you draw near, Stands a\niff r F r '.cm\n#\npes\ngleam - ing, gol - den row of bot - tied\n2. When at last the pangs of hunger you appease,\nAnd your thirst has drowned itself in beery seas,\nThen perhaps you feel contented, by no earthly ties you're\nbound,\nAnd you think the joys of heaven you have found.\n3. But, my friend, I fear that you are far from right.\nFor your blackened soul can never know delight,\nWhile down yonder, 'way down yonder, in your stomach's\nmurky deeps,\n\u00a1\u00a1\u00a1\u00a1Waiting for a drink, a devil vigil keeps.\n4. To the sound of happy songs and memories,\nAll restraint and inhibition swiftly flees,\nAnd of glasses full of whiskey you have soon drunk half a\nscore,\nBut that devil down inside you still wants more.\n5. In your glass the whiskey gleams like molten gold;\nEre you know it, 'neath the table you have rolled;\nWith a blissful smile the tender arms of Morpheus you seek,\nWith intoxication's roses on your cheek.\n6. But next morning when you wake up pale and wan,\nWith a haggard face you greet the cold, grey dawn,\nAnd that devil in your stomach, that last night made such\ndemands,\nNow is beating in your skull on frying pans.\n93\nbeer. I f\nSon o\u00ed a Gambolier\nTraditional\nTraditional\nm\nPP J\u00bb J' j\u00bb_j ; i jT> ; Jjt^e^h\n1. Come, join my hum-ble dir-ty, from Tip per* y town 1 steer.\nLike\nev -'ry hon .est fel - low, I take my la - ger beer, Like\nev -'ry hon-est fel-low, I take my whis - key clear, I'm *\nm i \u00e4* \/\u00c4 \\-\u00a3tj-j. ^mm \u00bb\ns\nram bling rake of pov-er-ty and the son of a Gam - bo - lier;\nChorus\nJUJgppj\nOh! I'm the son of a,son of a, son of a, son of a Gambolier, Oh!\nI'm the son of a, son of a, son of a, son of a Gam-bo-lier. Like\n$*F- \u00ef^^\u00e7=^m*m*. I j *=sm\nev - 'ry hon - est fel-low, I take my whis - key clear, I'm a\nram-bling rake of pov - er.ty and the son of a Gam - bo - lier,\n2. I went into a public house, away down Horseshoe Ferry;\nThe landlord ask'd me what I wished, and I answered Tom\nand Jerry.\"\nHe looked at me suspicious and my honesty did doubt,\nThen they seized me by the slack of my pants and quickly\nheaved me out.\n3. I went on board a ship one day, as down at the dock she lay.\nThe captain on the upper bridge, he started shouting \"Hey !\nWhat does THAT want on board, my lads? And I answered,\n\"Hey to you !\"\nAnd then they flung me overboard and nearly drowned me\ntoo.\n94 4. I went into a village one day, a charming rural spot;\nThe local copper ups an' says, \"Get out, you drunken sot!\"\nI caught him a smack on the left eyeball, and then he arrested me;\nBut what care I for a month in clink, when the food and the\nlodging's free?\n5. Had I a barrel o' whisky, and sugar three hundred pound,\nThe college bell to mix it in and the clapper to stir it round,\nI'd make such a brew of whisky punch, V drink to friends\nfar and near. ^\nI'm a rambling rake of poverty and the son of a gambolier.\n6. Oh ! Ladies fair, beyond compare, oh, be ye maid or wife,\nOh, sometimes spare a thought for one who leads a wand'r-\ning life.\nThink what it means, where'er I be, to whatever spot I roam,\nThere's no one cares a jot for me; there's no place I call\nhome.\n95 ^\nAnd When I Die\nTraditional\nAnd when I die.\nTraditional\n'i'1 , i P\n\u00a1> f M -^g^\n1. And when I die,\nDon't bu - ry me at\np\nDon't b\u00fb - ry me at all\n> J J\u00bb J\u00bb J JH-*-*\nJust pickJe my\n=\u00fc=\nT^^jp*^\nall,\nJust pick - le my bones\n1\nbones\nIn al - co - hoi.\nrt r f\n\u00bb J J -\u00a1j\u2014r^=*\nIn al - co - hoi.\n\u2014 Put a boMla of\n|S\n\u00ab.\nPut a bot - He of booze\nmi j 11 j=\u00e9\nbooze\nf \u00a1r g r r\nx=aa\nmy bead and\no^\nAt my head and feet,\n#\u00a5\nfeet,-\nT^^T\nAnd then 111 know My bones will keep.\n=\u00aec\n^T^T^\ns\u00ed\n*\nAnd then 111 know\nMy bones will keep. Hand Me Down My Walking Cane\nTraditional\nIff i j* J lr\n^\nTraditional\nHand me down\nm\n\u00b1\nP p'p\n\u2022 \u00abi* >^\n\u00cb\n1. Hand me down\nt ji y )\nf p P '!'\u25a0\nJ J\u00bb i J*\nmy walk - ing cane,-\nmy walk - ing\nF P I? glp\n^ \u00bbJ hJ\ncane, Hand me down my walk - mg\n H*\"d me down ,\u00ab___\u2014________ my walk - ing cane,\t\nChorus: ' . k l k h b\nf' \u00abM F\n\u00cd\nS \u00a3\nS\n\u00bf ; u\n?\ncane,\nOh, hand me down my walk- ing cane, I'm goin' to leave on that\n\u00a3\nj, j. j. j. \u25a0 jess\nS\n\u00cf\nmid - night train, 'Cause all my sins are tak - en a - way.\n2. Hand me down my bottle of corn,\nI'm a-goin' to get drunk as sure as you're born,\n3. I got drunk and I got in jail.\nAnd I had no wife to go my bail,\n4. Beans was tough and the meat was fat,\n.And oh, my Lord, I couldn't eat that,\n.5. If I had listened to what mama said,\nI'd 'ave been sleeping on a feather bed,\n6. Come on, mama, and a-go my bail,\nAnd get me out of this bloomin' jail,\n7. The devil, he chase me round a stump,\nThought he was gonna catch me at every jump.\n8. Oh, hell is deep, and hell is wide.\nAnd it ain't got a bottom, and it ain't got a side.\nn\\\\\n\/\n\/\nBy permission of Francis, Day and Hunter, Ltd.\n97\nJ 1. Old King Cole was a mer - ry old soul, And a\ny j j j\nj j' j\ni\n-e>-^\nmer - ry old soul was he;\nHe called for his\n*\nJ i Jl I HI\nJ J t\nh=fr\n\u2022\u2014e>\npipe and he called for his bowl! And he called for his pri. vates\n#\ni i \u00a1r t \u00ee * \\ \u00ed i i\n0=\u00b1\nthree.\nNow ev - 'ry pri - vate had a ve - ry fine\nty J 'j j i J1 J* ** r r i *L ^^\nthirst. And a ve * ry fine thirst had he;\n\u00bbj\u00bb1 4 .* i 0 I J J\u00bb J> j \u00a1\n^^\ni\nBeer! Beer! Beer! Beer!Beer!\" said the pH - vates,And three mer\nry\nJ- ^ \/ | r f J J\nmen are we\nFor there's none so rare as\n\u00bf*J \u00bf J ; J.l J ** a* .\n^\ncan com - pare With the men of the\n98 Old King Cole was a merry old soul,\nAnd a merry old soul was he;\nHe called for his pipe and he called for his bowl.\nAnd he called for his corporals three.\nNow ev'ry corporal had a fierce moustache,\nAnd a fierce moustache had he;\n\"Left, right, left, right, left,\" said the corporate,\n\"Beer! Beer! Beer! Beer! Beer;\" said the privates,\nAnd three merry men are we!\nFor there's none so rare as can compare\nWith the . . . etc.\nKing Cote calls for other rank's, whose attributes may\nbe summarized as follows :\nNow every sergeant had a very loud voice,\nNow every subaltern had a fine grouse.\nNow every captain was a hard-worked man,\nNow every adjutant had a restive horse,\nNow every major had a fine big swear,\nNow every colonel had a very sore head,\nNow every general had two red tabs,\nEach verse runs backwards from the rank just mentioned to the first, so that the last one runs :\nOld King Cole was a merry old soul,\nAnd a merry old soul was he;\nHe called for his pipe and he called for his bowl,\nAnd he called for his generals three.\nNow'every general had two red tabs,\nAnd two red tabs had he;\n\"We're all very great men,\" said the generals,\n\"What's the next word of command?\" said the colonels,\n\"Blankety-blankety-blank!\" said the majors,\n\"Won't anyone hold my horse?\" said the adjutants,\n\"We want three months' leave!\" said the captains,\n\"We do all the work,\" said the subalterns,\n\"Move to the right in fours!\" said the sergeants,\n\"Left, right, left, right, left,\" said the corporals,\n\"Beer; Beer! Beer! Beer! Beer!\" said the privates.\nAnd three merry men are we!\nFor there's none so rare as can compare\nWith the . . .\n99 Traditional\nI've Got Sixpence\nTraditional\nA reminder of the days when sixpence a day was a soldier's pay t\u00bb the British A rmy\nNg=I\nS\ni J J> J \\\u00df=m\nI've got six - pence, jol - \\y, jol - ly sac \u2022 pence,\nl|'\u00bf J IjJ JIJ J) JIJ j, j. I\nI've got eh - pence to last me all my Kfe, I've got\nkj,*7~ J J* I J- J I j j\ntup - pence to spend, and tup - p<\n\/ J J\u00bb\npence to spend, and tup - pence to lend, And tup-pence to\nty:> \/ J J'l J j i J Q\\* J ij r I\nsend un - to my wife, poor wife.\nNo cares have I te\nUV \u25a0\u25a0' N j U i j jN >JHJM\ngrieve\nNe pr\u00eat - ty lit - tie girl to de - corvo\nij* f j. j.lJ> J\u00bb J\u00bb JN J I j 4 If Jg\nme, I'm aa hap - py as a hing, be - lieve\nffj J |J.\/p=p^\nme, Aa\nj j \\ 4 urn\nwe go\nroll - ing, roll - ing home, dead drunk. Roll -\ning\n0m\n#\n> i N j lj-^J'N J J|\nhome, dead drunk, roll - ing home, dead drunk\u00ab ly the light of the\nj* \u00ea J^Ny^JVJr Ig m e'j J' *l\nsil \u2022\u2022 ver - y moon\nHap - py it the day when the\nrf.P F g FU J I-J Jljr^ J'l^ Jlil \u00bb\nsail - or\nid - dier ge*5 his pay As we go roll - ing, roll \u2022 ing home, dead drunk.\nair - man\n100 Sones o\u00ed the\nBritish Isles Wi1 a Hundred Pipers an1 a1\nLady Nairne Old Scottish Air\n(1766-1845)\nIn \u00a1745, when Bonnie Prince Charlie occupied Carlisle on his triumphant march southwards, he entered\nthe castle preceded by 100 pipers.\njjftfl j j i J j. j j j. i j \u00ef j p i r J\nffis%\n1. Wi' a hun - dred pip- era an' a'\nan' a',\nA hun - dred\n\u25a0\u25a0 4\nI\ni s\nS\n.J i.\u00bf 4-\nfe\npip - ere an' a', an' a', We'll up\n.* _:*_ #\n^\nan gi e em a *.\nP P I f - * J,\/\" J I J i il\n^\nblaw, a blaw, Wi a hun - dred pip ers an' a', an' a*.\n\u00cb5\u00c9\nP P I? P\n3^\n0, it's ow - er the Bor - der, a - waj\na - wai Ifs\nli\nw\nm^\n\u2022r ^\now - er\nwa,'\nwai ^ lt*$\nthe Bor - der, a -\n^' \u00bb ' \" F F ' f p\nP P P'N*\" P ^\now - er\na - wa'\n^ p j* ^=\nto Car\nlisle ha', Wi' its\n\u00ef\nyerts,\nit's cas - tie\nan\n\u2022;\nan'\nUse first verse also as chorus as far as%\n2. 0 our soldier lads they looked braw, looked braw,\nWi' their tartans, kilts, an' a', an' a',\nWi' their bonnets and feathers and glittering gear,\nAn' pibrochs sounding sweet and clear.\nWill they a' come back to their ain dear glen?\nWill they a' come back, our H \u00a1eland men?\nSecond-sighted Sandy looked fir* o wae,\nAn' mithers went IS they marched awa'.\n102 O wha is foremost o' a', o' a'?\nO wha does follow the blaw, the blaw?\nBonnie Charlie, the Prince o' us a', hurra'!\nWi' his hundred pipers an' a, an' a'.\nHis bonnet and feather he's waving high.\nHis prancing steed just seems to fly;\nThe nor' wind sweeps through his golden hair.\nAn' the pibrochs blaw wi' an' unco' flare.\nThe Esk was swollen sae red and sae deep,\nBut shouther to shouther the braw lads keep;\nTwo thousand swam o'er to fell English ground.\nAnd danced themselves dry to the pibrochs' sound\nDumbfoundered the English they saw, they saw,\nDumbfoundered they heard the blaw, the blaw!\nDumbfoundered they a' ran awa', awa',\nFrom the row of the pipers an' a', an' a'.\n^\n103 Loch Lomon\nLady John Scott\nLady John Scott\n(1810-1900)\nA. W. Tomlyn suggests that the words may refer to the hardships experienced by the Jacobites during the\nrevolution of \u00a1745. Lady John Scott is also believed to have composed the melody for \"Annie Laurie\".\n^m\nM\nr J \u00bfJ\nI\n5\/\n1. By yon\nbon nie banks and by\nypn bon - nie braes, Where the\n\u00a3i\np\nsun shines bright on Loch Lo - mon', Where\nftp r\u00e7 J- Jl p ' * J' * J j \u00b1*\nme and my tree\nlove were ev - er wont tae gae, On the\np=mm\n\" r r p\nr4\u2014\nbon - nie,\nChorus:\nbon - nie banks\nLoch\nLo\nmon\n^\nr~j< j y j-i J ^t^tj j, j\nye'll tak' the high\nroad and 111 tak' the low road, And\nft. J J J\nI'll be in\nm\nm^\u00a3\nScot - land\nfore\nye,\nBut\nft r p p \u00abi J' .p i \u00ab* \u25a0>' \/ i j j> i i\nme\nand my true love will nev - er meet a - gain. On the\nft j i i f r p *\ni\nbon - nie, bon - nie banks o' Loch\n2. Twas there that we parted in yon shady glen.\nOn the steep, steep side o' Ben Lomon',\nWhere in deep purple hue, the Hieland hills we view.\nAnd the moon comin' out in the g loa m in'.\nU\nmon.\n3. The wee birdies sing and the wild flowers spring,\nAnd in sunshine the waters are sleeping;\nBut the broken heart it kens nae second spring again,\nTho' the waefu' may cease frae their greeting.\n104 Ye Banks and Braes\nOld Scottish Air\nRobert Burns\n(1759-1796)\nIn the days of Mary, Queen of Scots, the French and Scottish Courts were closely linked. Norman songs\nwere known in Scotland and this Scottish Air has been found recorded in a French manuscript of the \u00a17th\nCentury.\nIt is said that Napoleon, while* on St. Helena, remarked to a lady one day, \"The music of England is execrable. They have only one good melody: 'Ye Banks and Braes of Bonnie Doon.\"\nP\n?=3>\nv4\n1\nm\n\u20acm\u00a3\n0^=m\n1. Ye banks and braes\no' bon - nie Doon, How can\nye\nm\nJ Q\\i j\u00bb JJ AQ f\nm\nbloom sae fresh and fair? How can ye chant, ye lit - tie\nf f\u20147 hi J~\"\"^ h P*-! lI ^ hi ^ I 0 1\ny j;j j' i o j' j^s\n*\nm\n0 0\nbird And I\nsae wea - ry, fu' 0' care? Thou'll break my heart,\npu\n\u00a12=5:\nfjr J'l r? p\n\u00e2\nthou warb - ling bird. That wan - tons thro' the flowery thorn;Thou\n#m\n\u00f6\n\u00dc^\n\u00c73 h \/\\ j,\nminds me o'\nde - part - ed joys, De - part - ed nev\ner\nm\ni\nto\nre - turn.\nAft ha'e I rov'd by bonnie Doon,\nTo see the rose and wood-bine twine;\nAnd ilka bird sang o' its love.\nAnd fondly sae did I o' mine.\nWi' lightsome heart I pu'd a rose,\nFu' sweet upon its thorny tree,\nAnd my fause lover staw my rose,\nBut ah ! he left the thorn wi' me.\n105 Annie Laurie\nWilliam Douglas of Fingland\n(1685)\nLady John Scott\n-(1810-1900)\nThe poem was written by young Douglas who was in love with Annie Laurie, the beautiful daughter of Sir\nRobert Laurie, first baronet of Maxwellton. The lady's hand, however, was given eventually to another\nsuitor.\niji11 i L j ' M l_l_Uli^!. j_g^J\n*\n1. Max - well - ton braes are bon\nnie,\nWhere ear - ty fa's\nthe\ndew,\nAnd it's there that An - nie Lau - rie Gi'ed\nft1 \/ j j. jii'j. * y^T^TT P\nme her prom - ise true.\nGi'ed me her prom - ise\nft r ' j i \u00e7mp=m \u00e7mmm=\u00a3=t -=\ntrue,\nWhich ne'er for - got will be;\nAnd for\n^*3*\\\u00bfi jf^ ii.j\\\u00bf,'\\\nbon \u2022- -nie An - nie Lau - rie I'd\n2. Her brow it like the snaw-drift,\nHer neck is like the swan.\nHer face it is the fairest\nThat e'er the sun shone on,\nThat e'er the sun shone on,\nAnd dark blue is her e'e;\nAnd for bon nie Annie Laurie\nI'd lay me doon and dee.\n3. Like dew on the gowan lying\nIs the fa' o' her fairy feet,\nAnd like winds in summer sighing,\nHer voice is low and sweet.\nHer voice is low and sweet,\nAnd she's a' the world to me;\nAnd for honnie Annie Laurie\nI'd lay me doon and dee.\nby\nme doon and dee.\n106 Comin' thro1 the Rye\nOld Scottish Air\nTraditional\n(First, verse by Robert Burns)\nThe Rye is a shallow stream flowing over a stoney bed and it was the custom for the young men of the vil-\nage to gather on its banks in the evening to exact a toll of a kiss from the girls as they crossed over on the\nstepping stones.\nffnj; J J. J1- J-'^JlJL\/ \\}-r-p^\u00a7\n1. Qin a bo - dy meet a bo - dy> Comin' thro' the rye,\nIf J: J \u00cd r jl- J^ I J' \u00bfTT\u00bf\nGin a bo \u2022 dy greet a bo - dy Need a bo - dy cry?\nChorus: k k .. l L\nif r \u00a1, j j r j t *=nrr\n\u00a3\u00dc\nII - ka las - sie has her lad - die, Ne'er a ane hae I;\nkRjf J J J'faN^^M\nBut\na' the lads they smile on me When com - in' thro' the rye.\n2. Gin a body meet a body,\nComin' frae the well,\nGin a body kiss a body\nNeed a body tell?\n3. Gin a body meet a body,\nComin' frae the toon,\nGin a body kiss a body,\nNeed a body gloom?\n4. Amang the train there is a swain\nI dearly lo'e mysel';\nBut whaur his hame, or what his name,\nI dinna care tae tell.\n107 The Glen Whorple Hielanders\nA regimental song of the Canadian Scottish. The Gaelic words \"Slainte Mhorl\" mean \"Good Health\", and\nare only used when drinking.\n1. There's a braw fine reg- \u00a1-ment as il - ka \u00abten should ken, They are\n$t iM t f j> j i ;\u25a0 j j\u00bb. j j ,ip\ndee - vils at the fech - ten, they ha'e durad a sieht o' men. An' ha'e\niff g * J ^r rift r m J\u00fc\n*\nsup pit muck - le whus-ky when the can - teen they gang ben. Hie-Ian'\nChorus:\n=1 J1 J J\ns= -g-c- r i r r fl\n=o\nmen frae braw Glen Whor - piel Hooch! Glen Wher-pie, Hie - Ian' men!\nff r a r J\u00bb i J\u00bb| J J Jr^\n\u00a3\nGreat, strong, whus - ky sue - pin' Hie - Ian' men, For they were\n\u00bfUi_\u00bfJ\nFg-iE-P-l\nhard - workin', hairy - leggit Hie-Jan men Slain-te mhor, Glen Whor - pie!\n2. They were foonded by McAdam, who of a' men wea the\nfaint,\nHe maided in Glen Eden, whaur he pipit like toe bent,\nWi' a fig leaf for a sporran, an' a pairfect Hielan' thirst,\nTul he stole awa' the apples frae Glen Whorple.\n3. When the waters o' the deluge drookit a' the waurld o'er,\nThe Colonel o' the regiment, his name was Shaun McNoah,\nSee a muckle boat he biggit an' he sneckit up the door,\nAn' they sailed awa' frae dooned Glen Whorple.\n4. But syne he sent a corporal, and gert him find the land.\nAn' he cam' back wi' an empty whusky bottle in his band,\nSee they kent the flood was dry in', he was fu', ye understand.\nFor he'd found a public house abune the water.\n108 5. When the good King Solomon was ruler o' the Glen,\nHe had a hundred pipers and a thoosan' fechten men,\nAn' a mighty fine establishment I'H hae nae doot ye ken,\nFor he kept a sieht o' wives in auld Glen* Whorple!\n6. Then there cam' a birkie bangster, wha was Chieftain o' the\nClan,\nHis name it was t' Wallace, an' he was a fechten mon.\nWhen the bonnie pipes were skirlin', then awa' the Southron ran\nFrae the dingin' o' the claymores o' Glen Whorple.\n7. When the bonnie pipes are skirlin' an' the lads are on parade\nIn the braw Glen Whorple tartan, wi' the Claymore an' the\nplaid,\nWhen the Sergeant-major's sober, an' the Colonel's no7\nafraid\nO' seein' tartan spiders in Glen Whorple!\n8. ; Eh, a bonnie sieht they mak', but gin the canteen ye gang\nben\nWhen the morn't parade is over, she'll be fu' o' drinkin' men,\nAn' a thoosand canty kilties will be settin' doon the Glen\nFor they drink a power o' whusky in Glen Whorple!\n\u00a1\n109 The Road to the Isles\nKenneth Maeleod Malcolm Johnson\n1. A.\nfar croon - in' is pu Hin' me a - way As\nIE\nm\nr=*\np-pFif \/Jir cjn\ntak' I wi' my cromak to the road,\nThe far Cool - ins are\np* J J1 J\u00bb j- f iF r f 1' j\u00bb j'l J I.) I\nDut-tin' love on me As step I wi' the sunlight for my load.\nChorus.\nhorns. s . \t\nfM'IP \/\u25a0 J- J1 P J: J: J'lJ,Jj!JJ {3\nSure, by Turn - met and Loch Rannoch and Loch - a - bar I will go, By\nlr{>J>j J! t*l p P If p-p|F J\u00bbJ' jig\nheather tracks wi' heaven in then* wiles; If it's think in' in your inner heart\n|ft)[r J J J J' j \u00ef f If g (?\u25a0 J j J>\u00bf , JIU^NI\nbrag- garfs in my step, You've never smelt the tangle o' the Isles. Oh, the\npr fn gi^ J\/j rig ry j'J^JM1\nfar Cool - ins are puffin' love on me, As step I wi' my cromak to the Isles.\n2. It's by. She i I water the track is to the West,\nBy Ai Hort and by Morar to the sea,\nThe cool cresses I am thinkin' o' for pluck,\nAnd bracken for a wink on Mother knee.\n3. It's the blue Islands are pullin' me away.\nTheir laughter puts the leap upon the lame,\nThe blue Islands from the Skerries to the Lews,\nWi' heather honey taste upon each name.\nBy permtssion of Boosey and Hawkes, Ltd.\n110 \u2014\nRobert Burns\n(1759-1798)\nAuld Lang Syne\nOld Scottish Air\nLike \"Comin' through the Rye\", the melody of this -ancient Scottish air is built upon the pentatonic or five-\ntoned scale, probably due to the early form of the bagpipe on which only these five tones could be played.\nThis scale antidates all written history and the Chinese are known to have used it in 2800 B.C. According to\ntradition hands are clasped at the words \"And there's a hand, my trusty fiere . . .\"\nfe\n1 b h ^\n\u2022 w l \u00bfte ^ * *\ni\n1. Should auld ac-quaint-anee be for - got. And nev - er brought to\ni$\u00bb f p \\f^mt\n$\nmin'? Should auld ac * quaint - anee be for-got, And\nChorus :\n^=?\n\u00bb\ndays of auld lang syne?\nFor auld\nlang\n^\nmm\ni\nm\nsyne.\nmy dear, For auld\nlang\nsyne\nWe'll\nm\nj i j'\nP j -T3IQ M\n1\ntak'\na cup o' kind - ness yet For auld\nlang syne;\n2. And here's a hand, my trusty fiere.\nAnd gie's a hand o' thine;\nAnd we'll tak' a rieht guid willie waught\nFor auld lang syne.\nIll\n\u2014i The Minstrel Boy\nThomas Moore Ow Irish Melody\n\u00a1ft\" I I j. J iPPf\nm\u00bf\n1. The Min - strel Boy to the wer\nis gone,\nIn the\nj j jij. t^m\nm\nranks of death you will find him; Hie fath -er's sword he has\nr p p iJ ^\n^m\ngird - ed on. And his wild harp slung\nbe - hind him.\npt r r P^\nJ j ,j\n\"Land of song!\" said the\nwar - nor\nbard, Though\nift \u00bf j j \u00a1J i r p r r i j, j> O o\n^\nall the world be trays thee, One sword, at least, thy\n\u00dc^\nP\nrights shall guard, One faith - ful harp\nshall praise thee.'\n2. The Minstrel fell! but the foemen's chain\nCould not bring his proud soul under;\nThe harp he loved ne'er spoke again,\nFor he tore its chords asunder:\nAnd said, \"No chains shall sully thee,\nThou soul of love and bravery!\nThy songs were made for the pure and free,\nThey shall never sound in slavery.\"\n112 Bendemeer*s Stream\nThomas Moore\nOld Irish Melody\nLike Robert Burns in Scotland, Moore introduced some of the loveliest ancient Irish Airs to the world by\nmeans of bis eloquent poetry.\nv* i; ' j.\nm\n1. There's a bow - er of ro - ses by Ben - de - meer's stream,\n^ J' J' IJ i i 'i J\nml\nj&\ni\nAnd the night - in - gale sings round it all the day long;\ni\nJ I J. J J\ni i \u25a0 i *\n3D\nIn the time of my child - hood 'twas like a sweet dream\n4b \u00a1 ' J J j ' J. J- ^IJ- J\"3^\nTo\n^\nsit in the\nro - ses and hear the bird's song.\nS3\ni i i r r i r\" r- r i ^\n$\nThat bow'r and its mu - sic I nev - er for - get,\n\u00a3\n\u00cd\n^^\nBut oft\nwhen a\nlone\n\u00cd^H\nin the bloom of the year,\nJ JIJ\n*\n3^\u00a3g\n3^\nI think,\nIs the night - in - gale sing - ing there yet?\nfy i J'1 J j j 'j J J '<=* J h j j\nue sea,\nWhen I\n^\nstra\/d with my love to the pure crys - tal foun - tain That\nChorus:\nlj#j r fif J j i j J-J i J- i\\Y:*\\\nstands in the beau -t\u00ed - ful Vale of Tra - lee.\nShe was\n$**\u00a3\u25a0 r- pi-' J>u ff7?i|j j.7\nlove ly and fair as the rose of the sum mer, Yet\niftfr r j r i r r p ij- j' j i ~ j\n'twas not her beau - ty\na - lone that $ won me,\nOh,\n$\u00c9\ni* ;i r p \u00bf\ni\nno! 'twas the truth\nin her\n#j r i\neye e - ver dawn - ing, That\nr J i J'i J =-r- p i'1 i\nmade me love\nMa\nn,\nthe Rose of Tra - lee.\n2. The cool shades of ev'ning their mantle were spreading,\nAnd Mary all smiling was list'ning to me,\nThe moon thro' the valley her pale ray was shedding\nWhen I won the heart of the Rose of Tralee\n114 Cockles and Mussels\nTraditional\nOld Irish Melody\nPi\nW^^^3^\n\u00ee^\u00e8\n1. In Dub - lin's fair ci - ty. Where the girls are so pret-ty, I !\n\u00cd\u00dc\nJ J\u00bb J Ji.i\nPP\n\u00ab\nfirst set my eyes on sweet Mol-ly Ma-lone. As she wheel'd her wheel\u25a0\nff j r ju i J'i J- r\nt=m\nbar - row Thro' streets broad and nar-row, Cry-ing,\"Cock-les and mus-sels!\nChorus :\nff r ir j'Jij pp\nn\na - live, a - live, 0!\" A - live, a - live, O! A - live, a - live\nff jy- j-j'ip r rip r r ir \u00abM\n0! Cry-ing, \"Cock-les and mus sels! a - live, a - live. 0!\"\n2. She was a fishmonger,\nBut sure 'twas no wonder.\nFor so were her father and mother before,\nAnd they each wheel'd their barrow\nThro' streets, etc.\n3. She died of a fever,\nAnd no-one could save her,\nAnd that was the end of sweet Molly Malone,\nBut her ghost wheels her barrow\nThro' streets, etc.\n\"V- Lilli Burlero\ntraditional\nOld Irish Melody\nThis stirring tune became the symbol of the discontent of the Protestants in Northern Ireland with regard\nto the policies of the Roman Catholic James II, who bad just appointed General Talbot Lord Lieutenant of\nIreland. It became the rallying song of the Glorious Revolution of 1688. Because of its associations, it was\nnot used in the British Army until recently for fear of offending the Catholics.\nSolo: Chorus:\nJ' J* J1 J\nMjJ J\n5*\n1. Ho! bro - der Teague, dost hear de de - cree? Lil-f\u00a1 bur-Je-to,\nSolo:\njr=fr\n\u00f6\nJ. J J. | J. J> J J J\nbul - len a - la,\nChorus:\nrj-J-Ja1 JlJaM\nDat we shall have a new dep - u - tie,\nwmm\u00ca\u00ca\nLU - li bur - le - ro, bul - len a - la.\nLe - ro, le - ro,\niffl J' a Hf! J -JUJLpJp\nEpffej\nHI - li bur - le - ro, LH - li bur - le - ro, but-len a - la,\nP j\u00bb J \u25a0hyjjrjl\nLe - ro, le - ro, HHi bur - le - ro, LiMi bur- le-ro, bul len-a-la.\n2. He! by Shaint Tyburn, it is de TaIbote :\nAnd he will cut de Englishmen's troate,\n3. For de good Talbot is made a lord.\nAnd with brave lada is coming aboard.\n4. Arrah! but why does he stay behind?\nHo! by my shoul 'tis a Protestant wind!\n5. And now de her\u00e9ticas all shall go down.\nBy Chrish and Shaint Patrick, do nation's our own.\n6. Dere was an old prophecy found in a bog,\n\"Ireland shall be ruled by an ass and a dog.\"\n7. And now dis prophecy is come to pass.\nFor Talbot's de dog, and James \u00a1a de ass.\n116 G\nTraditional\narryowen\nOld Irish Melody\nThis rollicking old Irish Tune, was chosen by General Custer fot the regimental march of his Seventh Cavalry. He heard it for the last time as he rode out of Fort Lincoln to the battle of the Little Big Horn, where\nhe was to make his famous last stand.\nS?5I\n\u25a0\u25a0#\n3^\n^w\nLet\nBac - chus' sons\nbe\nnot dis - mayed, But\ni\u00bf J-j\nty *>-'\nI I J J' \u00a3\njoin\nwith me\neach\njo - vial blade;\nCome,\n$\n^\nbooze and sing,\nand\nlend\nyour aid\nTo\n#\nW^\n^m\nme with\nthe chor - us\nIn - stead of spa we'll\ndrink down ale,\nAnd\npay the reck - 'ning on the nail, No\nman for drink shall go to jail, Be he from Garry -o-wen.\nWe'll break the windows and break the doors,\nThe watch knock down by threes and fours.\nAnd let the doctors work their cures,\nAnd tinker up our bruises.\nWe ire the boys that take delight in\nSmashing the Limerick lights when lightin',\nThrough the streets (ike sporters fightin', ^r 3. We'll beat the bailiffs out of fun.\nAnd tearing all before us. S We'll make the mayors and sheriffs run,\nWe are the boys-no man dares dun\nIf he regards a whole skin.\nOur hearts so stout have got us fame,\nFor soon 'tis known from whence we came,\nWhere'er we go they drink the name\nOf Garryowen in glory.\n117 MacNamara's Band\nJohn J. Stamford Sharous aCoimor\nffftj>ir p r p'r p r p \\rm\nm\n1. My name is Mac - na \u2022 ma - ra, I'm the Lead-er of the band,\ny j\u00bbir p r nr t r p iJ *N\nJt-\nm\nAnd tho' we're small in number we're the best in all the land. Oh!\ni\n^^mmm^^mi\n^P\nI am the Con - due - tor, and we oft - en have to play\nWith\nChorus:\nfrrr J,ir~p d ;ij p r \u00abhJ-ij >\nall the best mu\nm\nsi - cian - era you hear a - bout to - day: When the\n>\nr prpirprpir=m\nm?\ndrams go bang, the cym - bals clang, the horns will blaze a .way,\nff j>ir p r p ir f f p i^^\nMac -Car\u00bb thy puffs the ould bas - soon while Doyle the pipes wil\nplay; Oh! Hen -nes- sy Ten -nes- sy too-ties the flute, my word,\n(IP\nj. j ji r r t ^q\n'tis some . thing grand, Oh ! a cred - it to Ovid Ire - land, boys, it\nMac -na-ma- ra's band! Tra b la la la Tra la la la, la Tra la\nif j pff 'irf \u25a0 pr \u00aby \u2022 jTjn i-wt\\\u00bf\u00bf\nla la la la la la la la la Tra la la f la la Tra la la la la,\npi\n\u00ceE5\n\u2022 p y- j u jy?. j i\nTra la la la la la la la la la hi, Tra la la h !\n118 2. Whenever an election's on, we play on either side\u2014\nThe way we play our fine ou Id airs fills Irish hearts with\npride.\nIf poor Tom Moore was living now, he'd make yez\nunderstand,\nThat none could do him justice like ould \"Macnamara's\nband.''\n3. We play at wakes and weddings, and at every county ball,\nAnd at any great man's funeral we play the \"Dead March\nin Saul.\"\nWhen the Prince of Wales to Ireland came, he shook me\nby the hand.\nAnd said he'd never heard the like of \"Macnamara's band.\"\nBy permission of Edwin Ashdown, Ltd., and Ascberberg, Hopwood and Crew, Ltd.\n119\n\u2014\u2014\u2014 Thomas Oliphant\nMen of Harlech\nOld Welsh Air\nLlwyd, \"The Bard of Snowden\", claims that this song originated during the siege of Harlech Castle by\nEdward IV in 1468. When asked to surrender, the staunch defender, Dafydd ap Ieuan, replied, \"I held a\ntower in France 'til all the old women in Wales heard of it; now all the old women in France shall hear how\nI defend this castle.\" Finally, however,.he was forced by famine to make an honourable capitulation. The\ncastle of Harlech (meaning 'above the boulders') was built in the 6th Century and stands on a lofty rock\nupon the seashore.\ni^Mg^Lj^nzj\n*\np^\n1. Hark! I hear the foe ad - vane - ing, Barb - ed steeds are\nP 4 J J ~\\\u00a3$\nr=jT3 j \u25a0\u00bb i^\n\u00c9\nproud - ly pranc - ing; Hel - mets in the sun - beams glanc - ing.\n\u00cb\n?\nT\" ?T7~r*r-yj;~jH=\u00ef^k\u00ef\u00e9\\\nGlit - ter through the trees.\nMen of Har-lech, lie ye dream-ing,\nSee ye not their fal - chions gleam - ing, While their pen - nons\ngai - ly stream - ing, Flut - ter in the breeze?\nffiu j j, jj^^i W^ f^mJl r r m\nFrom the rocks re - bound - ing, Let the war cry sounding\np t^f-1-JktL^A. > I O gO\n1\nSum - mon all at Cam-bria's call, The haugh - ty foe sur\np p \u00bf_l\u00abJ. J* J\n3\nm\n\u00cb\n1. Sleep, my love, and peace at - tend thee, All through\nthe\n\u00ef\nm\nm\nx\u00ed\nGuar - dian\nwill lend thee,\nAll\nthrough the night;\nSoft the drow\u00bbsy hours are creeping.\nJ j mht=m\nHill and dale in slum - ber steep - ing, Love a - lone his\nfl\u00bb I J'\nm\nx^\nwatch is keep - ing\u2014 All\n2. Though I roam a minstrel lonely,\nAll through the night;\nMy true harp shall praise thee only,\nAll through the night;\nLove's young dream, alas, is over,\nYet my strains of love shall hover\nNear the presence of my lover,\nAll through the night.\n3. Hark! a solemn bell is ringing,\nClear through the night;\nThou, my love, art heavenward winging,\nHome through the night;\nEarthly dust from off thee shaken,\nSoul immortal thou shalt waken.\nWith thy last dim journey taken\nHome through the night.\nthrough the night;\nBy permission of f. B. Cramer and Co. Ltd., London, Eng.\n123 Son\u00e9s from\nAbroad La Marseillaise\nRouget de Lisle\nRouget de Lisle\n(1760-1836)\nComposed in 1792 during the first and more peaceful days of the revolution to encourage the Armies of\nFrance, the song was adopted by the Revolutionaries and became the symbol of the Republic. Ironically,\nwhen Rouget de Lisle Jhimself a Royalist, refused to take the oath of allegiance to the new constitution, he\nwas imprisoned, barely escaping the guillotine, and the composer of the French National anthem eventually died in poverty.\n4\"'ii-ilJ \u25a0\nm\np\nx\n1. Al - Ions en - fants de la pa - tri\ne. Le jour de\n\u00a3\nJ f * J\u00bbU\nm\u00ee\ngloire est ar - ri - ve..\nCon - tre nous de la ty - ran\nm\nr r F' i\nm^\n=22\nm\njp@\ndard sang\nL'e - ten - dard sang - lant est le - v\u00e9\", L'\u00e9* - ten -\nlant est le - v\u00e9,\nEn - ten - dez - vous dans\ndats?\n\u00a1P\n*\u25a0 \"Tr t ger nos fils.\nIls vien - nent, jus - que dans nos bras\n^m Chorus.\n'%\nE - gor\ns:\nB J'IJ J a II r Fil;'' T\nnos com -pa - gnes!\nIrr\nAux ar\nj|N^\nI * 7- ; 11-' ' p- p j: J1^^\nmes, ci - toy - ens!\nFor - mez\nvos ba- tai - lions.\n$\nIO\u00cd\n^\nW\nX*\nmm\n- Mar - chons.\nmar - chons\n*\u00c7\n|N\nquun\nsang im - pur\n\u00a3\nE\n\u00e4\nA - breu\nve nos\n126\nsil - Ions. Que veut cette horde d'esclaves,\nDe tra\u00eetres de rois conjures!\nPour qui ces ignobles entraves.\nCes fers, d\u00e8s longtemps pr\u00e9par\u00e9s?\nCes fers, d\u00e8s longtemps prepares?\nFrancais! pour nous, ah! quel outrage!\nQuels transports il doit exciter!\nC'est nous qu'on ose menacer\nDe rendre a l'antique esclavage.\nTremblez, tyrans et vous perfides,\nL'opprobre de.tous les partis!\nTremblez, vos projects patricides\nVont enfin recevoir leur prix,\nVont enfin recevoir leur prix,\nTout est soldat pour vous combattre;\nS'ils tombent, nos jeunes h\u00e9ros,\nLa France en produit de nouveaux,\nContre vous tous pr\u00eats a se battre.\nFrancais! en guerriers magnanimes,\nPortez ou retenez vos coups;\nEpargnez ces tristes victimes,\nA regret s'armant contre nous;\nMais le despote sanguinaire,\nMais les complices de Bouille\u2014\nTous ces tigres qui sans piti\u00e9\nD\u00e9chirent le sein de leur m\u00e8re.\nAmour sacre de la patrie,\nConduis, soutiens nos bras vengeurs.\nLiberte, Libert\u00e9 ch\u00e9rie,\nCombats avec tes d\u00e9fenseurs:\nSous nos drapeaux que la victoire\nAccoure a tes maies accents,\nQue tes ennemis expirants\nVoient ton triomphe et notre gloire. Traditional\nSur le Pont d'Avignon\nFrench Folk Song\nThe bridge was constructed across the Rhone in the 12th Century. As each arch was completed, a festival\nwas held. The bridge itself was swept away by a flood in the 17th Century, but the song which originated\nin the I5tb Century bas outlived it and still commemorates the ancient festivals.\nfe\n1 J I J J' J | J f f | |f J J\" J I\n1. Sur le pont d'A - vi - gnon L'on y dan - se, l'on y\n$=t=F=r=?T j i ii J ,\nP\u00e9\ndan - se, sur le\nmm\ntout en rond.\n2. Les bell' mesdam' font comm'ca,\nEt puis encore comm'ca.\n3. Les militair' font comm'ca\nEt puis encore comm\nLes beaux mess-ieurs font comm'\nm^\ni\nDjC. A1 Fine\npuis en - core comm\n128 Traditional\nMarche Lorraine\nFrench Folk Song\nUsed for hundreds of years as a country dance, it is said to have been sung by the soldiers of Joan of Arc,\nwho was herself born in Lorraine five hundred years ago. In \u00a1871, part of Lorraine was ceded to Germany\nand the people were forbidden to sing the air. During World War I, the victorious allied soldiers, led by\nMarshall Foch, marched into Metz, singing the Marche Lorraine. In World War II, it became the fighting\nsong of the Free French, as the Cross of Lorraine was their symbol^ In August, 1944, LeClerc's Units spearheading the Allied Drive, entered Paris singing this famous old song.\n4\u00a1s\n\u00dc\nm$\n\u00e9 \u00e9 :~P oT^^3\"\n^\n1. En pas \u2022 ant par la Lor - rain - e: A - vec mes sa - bots.\npj i |f il J J'lj j,\\4\n3s! J J\u00bb\nRen-con - trai trois cap -i -tai - nes A - vec mes sa - bots, don\n$\nj \u00abH \u00e0 ' jjl \u00abMj*7l\n#\n*-rr\ndai - ne, Oh! oh! oh!\nA - vec mes sa- - bots.\n2. Rencontrais trois capitaines,\nIls m'ont appel\u00e9 vilaine.\n3. Ils m'ont appel\u00e9 vilaine,\nJe. ne suis pas si vilaine.\n4. Je ne suis pas si vilaine,\nPuisque le fils du roi m'aime,\n5. Puisque le fils du roi m'aime.\nIl m'a donn\u00e9 pour e trenne.\n6. I' m'a donne pour etrenne.\nUn bouquet de marjolaine.\n7. Un bouquet de marjolaine,\nS'il fleurit, je serai reine. .\n8. S'il fleurit, je serai reine.\nS'il y meurt, je perds ma peine.\n129 1\nTraditional\nAu Clair de la Lune\nJ. B. Lully\n(1632-1687)\nJean Baptiste Lully, the famous opera composer at the court of Louis XIV, knew Moliere \"uell.\nand composed the music for several of bis plays, e.g. \"Le Bourgeois Gentilhomme\". Thii well-\nJtnown song presents a charming little tableau from the reign of \"Le Roi Soleil'\nJ_ I J V-i\u00e4l | J- ^\nMon a - mi Pier - rot,\n#\nMa chan - delle est mor - te,\nmm^m\nOu\nvre moi\nta\npor\nte,\nPour \u00e9 - crire un mot;\nJe n'ai plus de feu,\npJ,sJ J J|J. *\nPour l'a - mour de Dieu.\nZ\nAu clair de la lune,\nPierrot repond\u00eet:\n\"Je n'ai pas de plume,\nJe suis dans mon lit.\nVa chez b voisine,\nJe crois qu'elle y est.\nCar dans sa cuisine\nOn bat te briquet.\"\nAu clair de la lune\nS'enfuit Arlequin\nFrapper chez la brune,\nElle repond soudain:\n\"Qui frappe de la sorte?\"\nIl dit \u00e0* son tour:\n\"Ouvrez votre porte\nPour le Dieu d'amour!\"\nAu clair de la lune\nOn n'y voit qu'un peu.\nOn chercha la plume,\nOn chercha du feu.\nEn cherchant de la sorte.\nJe n'sais c'qu'on trouva:\nMais je sais qu' la porte\nSur eux se ferma.\n130 Aupr\u00e8s de ma Blonde\nTraditional\nFrench Folk Song\nj\u00bb IJ i1 J jm,- }>^f p r \u00a1r i\n1. Dans le i jar din d'mon per e Les li - las sont fleu -\nfyrr\"pT\u00bfrm-m-r-?\nDans le jar - din d'mon p\u00e8r e Las If- las sont fleu\nTous les eis - eaux du mon - de y vien - nent faire leurs\nChorus\nli*u ^\nnids.\nAu - pr\u00e8s de ma blon - de Qu'il fait bon, fait\n?=m\u00a3:\nmm^\nAu\npr\u00e8s de ma\nblond\n\u00fcHI^*i\nQu'il fait bon dor\n2. La caille, b tourterelle\nEt b jolie perdrix,\nEt ma jolie colombe\nQui chante jour et nuit.\n3. Qui chant\u00e9 pour les fines.\nQui n'ont pas de mari.\nPour moi ne chante gu\u00e8re\nCar j'en ai un joli.\n4. Il est dans la Hollande,\nLes Holbndais l'ont pris.\n\"Que donn'rez-vous, b belle,\nPour b voir revenir?\"\n5. Je donnerais Versailles,\nParis et Saint Denis.\nLes tours de Notre Dame,\nLes cloches de mon pays!\nmir\nIM MaN\normanaie\ndi.\nTraditional\nFrench Folk Song\ni. Q\nm\nEt\n1. Quand tout re - na\u00eet a l'es \u2022 per - an - ce.\nque l'hi \u2022 ver\nfuit bin de nous. Sous le beau ciel de no -tre\nr~p \u2022> -'jTFr J- \u00ed 1^\n:f=z=h\nFran - ce\nQuand le so - leil de - vient plus doux, Quand\n^^^\u00cap\nJ i- m J- J* a\npu\nla na - ture est rev - er - di - e, Quand lili - ron - d\u00e9lie est\nft\u00edl jVJ t t t (' f\\ t t 1 '\nde re - tour. J'ir - ai\nre - voir ma Nor - man - di - e:\n\u00efz^aJ \u00bf $\u00bf i (?\u2022 j 1 j ^mm\nC'est b pa - ys qui m'a don - n\u00e9\n2. J'ai vu bs lacs de l'Helv\u00e9tie,\nEt ses chalets et ses glaciers.\nJ'ai vu le ciel de l'Italie\nEt Venise et ses gondoliers.\nEn saluant chaque patrie,\nJe me disais: Aucun s\u00e9jour\nN'est plus beau que ma Normandie,\nC'est le pays qui m'a donn\u00e9 b jour.\n3. Il est un ige dans la vie,\nOd chaque rave doit finir.\nUn 'age od fame recueillie\nA besoin de se souvenir;\nEt quand ma muse refroidie\nAura fini ses chants d'amour,\nJ'irai revoir ma Normandie:\nC'est b pays qui m'a donn\u00e9 b jour.\n132\nb jour. Je tire ma r\u00e9v\u00e9rence\nTraditional\nFrench Folk Song\nm\nJT9\\ JrJ^U=p\n8\n1. Je tire ma r\u00e9 - ve - ren - ce. Et m'en vais au ha - sard Par\nblJ? K fc\u2014\u00a3 h 1 p J h | K b J> h| J JH\nW^-i1.\u2014a*\u2014ei\u00ab\u2014aP ^ * \u2022\u2014\u00e9\u00e7h m*\u2014|, e\u00bf \u00b1 il_\nles routes de la Fran - ce, La France et la Na - varre; Mais\n3\nifrfc nJ J\n> j\u00bb i- \u00abft-^^\ndi - tes- lui quand \u2022 m\u00a3 - me\nSim-pie-ment que je l'ai - me, oh\nfrU J>J. iJ\u00ee-Aju J\u00bb i i |\u00a1\u00a7\nDites- lui, voul-ez - vous, Bon - jour pour moi, et voi l\u00e0 tout.\n2. J'avais sa preference\nJ'\u00e9tais son seul bonheur\nHelas! les apparences\nEt le sort sont trompeurs.\nUn autre a pris ma place;\nTout passe, tout casse, tout lasse;\nDeux grands mots, \"oh pourquoi?\nDonc dites-lui bonjour pour moi\n3. Je n'ai plus d'esp\u00e9rance,\nJe remporte mon coeur\nPar les routes de la France,\nLa France ou bien ailleurs;\nMais dites-lui quandm\u00eame\nSimplement que je l'aime,\nDites-lui, voulez-vous,\nBonjour pour moi, et voil\u00e0 tout.\n133 Il \u00bftait un petit navire\nTraditional\nFrench Folk Song\nj\u00dc^M-I^L-M^1 -\" J' JJ' I J^^J\n1. Il \u00e9 - tait un pe - tit na - vi - re,\nffiV \/? p rUp ^ Tlp-.f r f ' '\ntait un pe* tit na-\nJ1 JJv^\nvi - re, Qui n'avait ja - ja - ja mats na - vi - gu\u00e9', Qui n'a - vait\n$-m< \u00bf*\\ j- fg=i\nB\u00bb\nja - ja - mais na - vi - gue.\n2. Il entreprit un long voyage,\nsur b mer Me- Me- M\u00e9diterran\u00e9e.\n3. Au bout de cinq \u00e0 six semaines,\nLes vivres vin- vin- vinrent a manquer.\n4. On tira- z- a b courte paille,\nPour savoir qui, qui, qui serait mange.\n5. Le sort tomba sur b plus jeune,\nc'est donc lui qui, qui, qui fut designe.\n6. Pendant que tous Us d\u00e9lib\u00e8rent,\nIl monte sur, sur, sur b grand hunier.\n7. Il fit au cbl une priera,\nInterrogeant, -g\u00e9ant, -g\u00e9ant l'immensit\u00e9.\n8. O, St. Vierge, o, ma patronne,\nEmp\u00eache-les, bs, les de me manger.\n9. Au m\u00eame instant un grand miracle,\nPour l'enfant fut, fut, fut realise.\n10. Des p'tits poissons dans b navire,\nSaut\u00e8rent par, par, par et par milliers.\n11. Si cette histoire vous amuse,\nNoua allons la, la, la recommencer.\nh\u00e9, O\nh\u00e9.\n134\n\u2014 Malbrouclc\nTraditional\nFrench Folk Song\nOriginally the melody was an ancient crusaders' marching song. Whether it originated in France and was\ntaken to Palestine, or brought back by the crusaders, is unknown. It was sung as a cradle song by Marie\nAntoinette and later inspired Napoleon's troops.\ni_j> j' ^^=mm\u00a3\n1. Mal-brouck s'en va-t-en guar - re, Mi- ron \u2022 ton, ton, ton, mi-ron\nFine\ntain -ne. Mal-brouck s'en va-t-en guer - re,Ne sait quand re-viendra.\nNe sait quand re - vien dra, Ne sait quand re- vien- dra.\n2. Il reviendra- z- \u00e0 Pasques,\nOu \u00e0 la Trinit\u00e9.\n3. La Trinit\u00e9 se passe,\nMarbrouck ne revbnt pas.\n4. Madame a sa tour monte,\nSi haut qu'elle peut monter.\n5. Elb voit venir son page,\nTout de noir habille.\n6. \"Beau page, ah! mon beau page,\nQuell nouvelle apportez?\"\n7. Aux nouvelles que j'apporte,\nVos beaux yeux vont pleurer.\n8. Quittez vos habita roses.\nEt vos satins broches.\n9. \"Monsieur Malbrouck est mort,\nEst mort et enterr\u00e9.\"\nD.C.AlFine\n135 Chevaliers de la Table Ronde\nTraditional\nFrench Student Song\nim\nt\nfs=*\nEE\u00cf\n\u25a0 * I el K \u00e9 4\nS\n\u00c9\n1. Che - va - liers de la ta - ble ron - de, Go\u00fb-tons voir si le vin est\n^\nte=b\n\u00a3\nft\u2014h\n0 0\n^\nK-S-^H\nbon. Che \u2022 va - liers de la ta - ble ron\u2022 de, GoQ -tons voir si le vin est\na Chorus:\nyjif pur n'r Mi\n5==V\nbon. Go\u00fb - tons voir, oui, oui, oui, Go\u00fb \u2022 tons voir, non, non,\nt\n> J | J'Ij J J'f f f N * P fljr f a|\nnon, Go\u00fb - tons voir si le vin est\n4\u00bbf r\nbon. Go\u00fb - tons voir, oui, oui,\nK\nUr Vpp-fi\noui, Go\u00fb - tons voir, non, non, non, Go\u00fb \u2022 tons voir, si le vin est bon.\n2. J'en boirais cinq a six bouteilles\nUne femme sur les genoux.\n3. Si je meurs, je veux qu'on m'enterre\nDans une cave ou il y a du bon vin.\n4. Les deux pieds contre la muraille,\nEt la tete sous b robinet.\n5. Sur ma tombe je veux qu'on inscrive,\nIci-git le roi des buveurs.\n6. La morale de cette histoire,\nC'est de boire avant de mourir\n136 Monsieur, vous \u00eates jeune homme\nTraditional French Student Song\n\u00edft J I i J' J' J' I J' j J' I\u25a0* i J1 il j\n1. Mon - sieur, vous \u00eates jeune hom -me, a - yez du sen- ti- ment.\n$m\nPre - nez une da - me blon - de pour vi - vre plus con\nm\nJ J^ '[s J^EEgt\ntent. Mais non, les blon - des\nsont trop pro - fon - des,\nJ I J j\n11 J JIJE F g\nfc\ny~s\nI\n=fc=\u00a3\nMais non, les blon - des,\nChorus:\nje nai\nme\npas, je n ai - me\n\u00ef\n*\nF=f>\nP\".\nT~f*\nMais non, les blon - des,\nsont trop pro - fon - des,\n\u00a3\nd'~--K J^\n^^M-\n\u25a0\nS\u00c9\nMais non, les blon - des ,\nje nai - me pas.\n2. Les noires sont trop bizarres.\n3. Les rouges sont trop jalouses.\n4. Les grises sont trop soumises.\n,5. Monsieur vous \u00eates jeune homme, ayez du sentiment,\nPrenez une dame brune pour vivre plus content.\nMais non, les brunes sont trop communes,\nExcepte une et c'est ma femme, et c'est ma femme,\nMais non les brunes sont trop communes,\nExcepte une et c'est ma femme.\n137 O alte Burschenherrlichkeit\nSee Page 50\nEugen H\u00f6fling\n(1825J\nO, alte Burschenherrlichkeit,\nWohin bist du verschwunden?\nNie kehrst du wieder, goldne Zeit,\nSo froh und ungebunden!\nVergebens sp\u00e4he ich umher,\nIch finde deine Spur nicht mehr.\n0, jerum, jerum, jerum,\n0, quae mutatio rerum!\nDen Burschenhut bedeckt der Staub,\nEs sank der Flaus in Tr\u00fcmmer,\nDer Schl\u00e4ger ward.des Rostes Raub,\nErblichen ist sein Schimmer,\nVerklungen der Kommersgesang,\nVerhallt Rapier\u2014und Sporenklang.\n0, jerum, etc.\n4. Allein das rechte Burschenherz\nKann nimmermehr erkalten;\nIm Ernste wird, wie hier im Scherz,\nDer rechte Sinn stets walten;\nDie alte Schale nur ist fern,\nGeblieben ist uns doch der Kern,\nUnd den lasst fest uns halten,\nUnd den lasst fest uns halten!\n3. Da schreibt mit finsterm Amtsgesicht\nDer eine Relationen,\nDer andre seufzt beim Unterricht,\nUnd macht Recensionen,\nDer schilt die s\u00fcnd'ge Seele aus,\nUnd der flickt ihr zerfallnes Haus.\n0, jerum, etc.\n138 Drum, Freunde, reichet euch die Hand.\nDamit es sich erneue,\nDer alten Freundschaft heil'ges Band\nDas alte Band der Treue;\nKlingt an und hebt die Glaser hoch,\nDie alten Burschen leben noch,\nNoch lebt die alte Treue,\nNoch lebt die alte Treue.\nHeinrich Heine\n(1823)\nDie Lorelei\nSee Page 58\nIch weiss nicht, was soll es bedeuten,\nDass ich se traurig bin;\nEin M\u00e4rchen aus alten Zeiten,\nDas kommt mir nicht aus dem Sinn.\nDie Luft ist k\u00fchl und es dunkelt,\nUnd ruhig fliesst der Rhein;\nDer Gipfel des Berges funkelt\nIm Abendsonnenschein.\nDie sch\u00f6nste Jungfrau sitzet\nDort oben wunderbar\u00ab\nIhr goldnes Geschmeide blitzet,\nSie k\u00e4mmt ihr goldenes Haar.\nSie k\u00e4mmt es mit goldenem Kamme,\nUnd singt ein Lied dabei;\nDas hat eine wundersame\nGewaltige Melodei.\nDen Schiffer im kleinen Schiffe\nErgreift es mit wildem. Weh;\nEr schaut nicht die Felsenriffe,\nEr schaut nur hinauf in die H\u00f6h'.\nIch glaube, die Wellen verschlingen\nAm Ende Schiffer und Kahn;\nUnd das hat mit ihrem Singen\nDie Lorelei gethan.\n139 Das zerbrochene Ringlein\nJoseph von Eichendorff\n(1812)\nSee Page 59\n3.\nIn einem k\u00fchlen Grunde,\nDa geht ein M\u00fchlenrad;\nMein* Liebe \u00a1st verschwunden,\nDie dort gewohnet hat,\nMein' Liebe ist verschwunden,\nDie dort gewohnet hat.\nSie hat mir Treu'versprochen,\nGab mir ein'n Ring dabei,\nSie hat die Treu gebrochen,\nDas Ringlein sprang entzwei,\nSie hat die Trau gebrochen,\nDas Ringlein sprang entzwei.\nIch m\u00f6cht' als Spielmann reisen\nWeit in die Welt hinaus,\nUnd singen meine Weisen,\nUnd gehn von Haus zu Haus,\nUnd singen meine Weisen,\nUnd gehn von Haus zu Haus,\n5.\nIch m\u00f6cht'als Reiter fliegen\nWohl in die blut'ge Schlacht,\nUm stille Feuer liegen\nIm Feld bei dunkler Nacht,\nUm stille Feuer liegen\nIm Feld bei dunkler Nacht.\nH\u00f6r' ich das MUhlrad gehen,\nIch weiss nicht, was ich will\u2014\nIch m\u00f6cht'am liebsten sterben,\nDa war 's auf einmal still,\nIch m\u00f6cht'am liebsten sterben,\nDa war 's auf einmal still,\nDas Bienenhaus\nGerman Student Song\nMein Herz, es ist ein Bienenhaus,\nDie M\u00e4dchen, sie sind die Bienen;\nSie fliegen ein, sie fliegen aus,\nWie man das macht im Bienenhaus.\nIn meines Herzens Klause,\nHoldri-a holdri-ho,\nHoldri-a holdri-ho,\nHoldri-a Ho, Holdri-a Ho,\nHoldri-a Ho, Holdri-a Ho!\nSee Page 61\n140 Lili Marlene\nHans Leip (1925)\nSee Page 60\nVor der Kaserne,\nVor dem grossen Tor,\nStand eine Laterne\nUnd steht sie noch davor;\nSo wolln wir uns da wiedersehn,\nBei der Laterne wolln wir stehn,\nWie. einst, Lili Marlene,\nWie einst, Lili Marlene.\nUnsre beiden Schatten\nSahn wie einer aus,\nDass wir so lieb uns harten,.\nDas sah man gleich daraus;\nUnd alle Leute solin es sehn,\nWenn wir bei der Laterne stehn,\nWie einst. Lili Marlene,\nWie einst, Lili Marlene.\nSchon blies der Posten,\nSie bliesen Zapfenstreich;\n\"Es kann-drei Tage kosten!\n\"Kamerad, ich komm'ja gleich!\nDann sagten wir, \"Auf Wiedersehn,\"\nWie gerne w\u00fc'rd' ich mit dir gehn,\nMit dir, Lili Marlene,\nMit dir, Lili Marlene.\nDeine Schritte kennt sie,\nDeinen sch\u00f6nen Gang,\nAlle Abend rennt sie,\nDoch mich vergass sie lang.\nUnd sollte mir ein Leid geschehn,\nWer wird bei der Laterne stehn\nMit dir, Lili Marlene,\nMit dir, Lili Marlene.\nAus dem stillen R\u00e4ume,\nAus der Erde Grund,\nK\u00fcsst mich wie im Traume\nDein verliebter Mund.\nWenn sich die Abendnebel drehn,\nWerd\" ich bei der Laterne stehn,\nWie einst, Lili Marlene,\nWie einst, Lili Marlene.\ni 1,41 Edite Bibite\nFrom\nKindleben's Studentenliedern\n(1781)\n1. \u00c7a, \u00c7a, geschmauset,\nLasst uns nicht rappelk\u00f6pfisch sein!\nWer nicht mit hauset,\nDer bleib' daheim.\nEdite, bibite, coll\u00e9giales!\nPost multa saecula, pocula nulla!\nDer Herr Professor\nLiest heut' kein Collegium;\nDrum ist es besser,\nMan trinkt eins 'rum.\nAuf, auf, ihr Br\u00fcder!\nErhebt den Bacchus auf den Thron,\nUnd setzt euch nieder,\nWir trinken schon.\n4. Denkt oft, ihr Br\u00fcder,\nAn unsre Jugendfr\u00f6hlichkeit,\nSie kehrt nicht wieder,\nDie goldne Zeit!\nSee Page 91\nBr\u00fcder, lagert euch im Kreise\nGerman Student Song\nSee Page 90\n1. Br\u00fcder, lagert euch im Kreise,\nTrinkt nach alter Vater Weise,\nLeert die Glaser, schwenkt die H\u00fcte,\nAuf der gold'nen Freiheit Wohl!\n2.. M\u00e4dchen, die mit keuschen Trieben,\nNur den braven Burschen lieben,\nNie der Tugend Reiz entstellen,\nSei ein sch\u00e4umend Glas gebracht!\n3. M\u00e4nnern, die das Herz uns r\u00fchren,\nUns den Pfad der Weisheit f\u00fchren,\nDeren Beispiel wir verehren,\nSei ein dreifach Hoch gebracht!\n142 4. Unter'm Schatten heil'ger Linden\nWerden wir uns wiederfinden,\nWo sich Br\u00fcder froh umarmen\nIn dem Hain Elysiums.\n5. Wenn ich deinen Kahn besteige,\nTrauter Charon, O, dann reiche\nNoch einmal den Labebecher\nMir f\u00fcr meinen Obulus!\nCrambambuli\nC. Koromandel\n(ca 1800)\nI. Crambambuli, das ist der Titel\nDes Tranks, der sich bei uns bew\u00e4hrt;\nDas ist ein ganz probates Mittel,\nWenn uns was B\u00f6ses widerf\u00e4hrt.\nDes Abends spat, des Morgens fr\u00fch\nTrink ich mein Glas Crambambuli,\nCHORUS: Crambimbambambuli, Crambambuli!\n2. Bin ich im Wirtshaus abgestiegen,\nGleich einem grossen Kavalier,\nDann lass'ich Brot und Braten liegen,\nUnd greife nach dem Pfropfenzieh'r;\nDann blast der Schwager tantranti\nZu einem Glas Crambambuli,\nSee Page 89\n3. Reisst's mich im Kopf, reisst's mich im Magen,\nHab' ich zum Essen keine Lust;\nWenn mich die b'dsen Schnupfen plagen,\nHab' ich Katarrh auf meiner Brust:\nWas k\u00fcmmern mich die Medizi?\nIch trink' mein Glas Crambambuli,\n4. War' ich zum grossen Herrn geboren,\nWie Kaiser Maximilian,\nW\u00e2V mir ein Orden auserkoren,\nIch h\u00e4ngte die Devise dran:\n\"Toujours fid\u00e8le et sans souci,\nC'est l'ordre du Crambambuli,\"\n143 5. Ist mir mein Wechsel ausgeblieben,\nHat mich das Spiel labet gemacht,\nHat mir mein M\u00e4dchen nicht geschrieben,\nEin'n Trauerbrief die Post gebracht:\nDann trink* ich aus Melancholie\nEin volles Glas Crambambuli,\n6. Soll ich f\u00fcr Ehr' und Freiheit fechten,\nFUr Burschenwohl den Schl\u00e4ger zieh'n,\nGleich blinkt der Stahl in meiner Rechten,\nEin Freund wird mir zur Seite steh'n;\nZu dem sprech' ich : \"Mon cher ami,\nZuvor ein Glas Crambambuli,\"\nIhr dauert mich, ihr armen Thoren,\nIhr liebet nicht, ihr trinkt nicht Wein;\nZu Eseln seid ihr auserkoren,\nUnd dorten wollt ihr Engel sein,\nSauft Wasser, wie das liebe Vieh,\nUnd meint, es sei Crambambuli,\n8. Crambambuli soll mir noch munden,\nWenn jede andre Freude starb,\nWenn mich Freund Hein beim Glas gefunden,\nUnd mir die Seligkeit verdarb;\nIch trink' mit ihm in Compagnie\nDas letzte Glas Crambambuli,\nWer wider uns Crambambulisten\nSein h\u00e4misch Maul zur Misgunst r\u00fcmpft,\nDen halten wir f\u00fcr keinen Christen,\nWeil er auf Gottes Gabe schimpft;\nIch gab' ihm, ob er Zeter schrie,\nNicht einen Schluck Crambambuli,\n144 Cielito Lindo\nTraditional\nMexican Folk Song\nThis Mexican Song has been sung on both sides of the Rio Grande for many generations. It was a great\nfavorite of the early pioneers of the South-west.\ni\n\u00cd\nm\n\u00a3\n\u00a3\nm\n1. Pa - ja - ro, que^a-ban - do - na su\npri - mer ni - do su\ni\n1\nj U \u00bbr r\npri - mer ni - do.\nt|j J J\nSi loen - cuen - trajo-ciV- pa - do cie\n\u00b1=*=*\nJ i \u00bbi\nChorus:\nli - to Lin - do bien\nme\nre - ci - do.\nt\n\u00c8\n1\nE\u00ee\n=C*\n:ct\nAy,\nay,\nay,\nay,\n01\n\\n\nta,y no llor - res,\n^\n-xx\nPor fi que can - tan - do se_a - le - gran Cie\nM\nli - to\nj \u25a0 J i Li-\nlin - do los\ncor - a - zo\nnes.\n2. De la Sierra Morena cielito\nLindo, vienen bajando.\nUn par dewojitos negros cielito\nLindo de contrabando.\n3. Una flecharen el aire, cielito\nLindo, lanzo cupido,\nYjesa flecha volando, cielito\nLindo, bien me ha herido.\n4. Ese lunar que tienes, cielito\nLindo, junt\u00f3la la boca,\nNo se lo des a nadie, cielito\nLindo, que^a mf me toca.\n14& E M. Cort\u00e1zar\nAy, Jalisco\nManuel Esperon\n\"Ay, Jalisco, no te rajes,\" is a local native expression meaning \"0, falisco, don't let us down.\"\nThe mariachis of this song are the picturesque ser ape and sombrero clad native troubadours who\nwill still serenade (for a few pesos ) the sweetheart of a young Mexican lover. Tequila is an inferior\nbard liquor distilled by the natives from the maguey plant.\nAy! Ja - lis - co, Ja-lis - co. Ja - lis - co, tu rie - nes tu\ngus - rajes -cu - char les ma - r\u00eda - chis can - tar con el\nW\nno - via quejes Gua - da - la - ja - ra\u2014\nal - ma tus lin - das can - ci\u00f3 - nes.\nr\n\u00a5\ncha - cha bo - ni - ta\nir co - mo sue - nan\nla per - la mas ra - ra de\ne - sos gui - ta - rro - nes y_e\nPEE*\n3\nto - do Ja - lis - co_es mi Gua - da - la - ja - ra.\nchar - mejin re - qui - la con los va - len - to - nes.\n1st 2nd Chorus\nY me iAy!\nJa - lis - co, no te\nra - joi\nnte sa - le del al ma\n>\u25a0 1'\/ U I'i')\ngri - tar con ca - lor.\n*fo ir p 11 i 1.11 i i'iu\na - brir to - dq_,el\n1st\n^\npe - cho pale - char es - te gri - to: \u00a1Que lin -do^es Ja--lis - co, pa\n^m\n2nd\n\u00a5\nla - bra de ho - nor! Its - co, pa - ia - bra dejio - nor!\nBv permission of the owners of the copyright in Canada. Southern Musk Publishing Co. (Canada) Ltd.\n146 Pa' mujeres Jalisco primero, lo mismo en los altos quewalla_\njen la canada,\nMujeres muy lindas, que rechulas de cara, asi son las hembras de Guadalajara.\nEn Jalisco se qui\u00e9rela la buena, porquejss peligroso querer\na la mala,\nPor una morena echar much bala y bajqjuna luna cantar\nen Ch\u00e1pala.\nAy ! Jalisco, Jalisco, Jalisco, tus hombres son machos y son\ncumplidores,\nValientes yjiriscos y sostenedores no^admiten rivales en\ncosas de amores.\nEs tu orgullo tu traje de charro traer tu pistola fajadajen\nel cinto,\nTener su guitarra pa'echar mucho tipo ya los que presumen\nquitarles el hipo.\n147 Alla'en el Rancho Grand\nJ. del Moral\nE D. Uranga\nLike Stephen Foster's songs or Denza's \"Santa Lucia\" this has become almost a Mexican folk\nsong.\nI\n^5\nS\n? J f^H\nIlajen el ran - cho gran - de, A - IIa don 'de vi - vi - a,\n\u00fc\n^^^\n-jjT^\u2014ir\ni J' J^\nits:\nV ' *\ni^\nHa - biaju - na ran - che - ri - ta Que_a - le - gre me de-\n1. Te voyajia- Ay, Ay, Ay,\nOsman Perez Freir\u00e9 Osman Perez Freir\u00e9\nLike \"Alla en el Rancho Grande\" in Mexico this Chilean song of love has become almost a\nnational folk song.\n1 I \u2014 1 TS 7\u00cd2 i 1 ; er--\u2014s\nm\n^\nm^\ns\nm\n4 *\n^*\n1. A - so - ma-.te^a la ven - ta - na^Ay, Ay, Ay, pa - lo - ma del\n$ J1 J' j I j v J1 J' J' i J r I r i i\nal - ma\nmi\nA - so - ma - te^a la ven - ta - na^y, Ay, Ay,\n*\nh\u2014H-fr\n^i\n\u25a0<\u00c7\\\u00cf${! Jl g\npa - lo - ma del al - ma mi\nQue ya la^au -ro- ra te\nm\n4> r \\p if\\ f ? \u00e7 * *' r \\f 1\n\u00a3\npra - \u00f1a.\nH\ny a la^au - ro - ra\nnos vie - ne^a-nun - ciar el di. \u2014 a-\nHE\ntern - pra - naj\\y, Ay, Ay, nos vie - ne^a-nun-ciar el\nte\n*\u2014t\u2014\u00ab \u00ed\nft p j>\n' (T \u00e9-\nm\nI\ndi a Ay, Ay, Ay, Ay, Ay,\n\u00ed\n\u00ed\nAy, Ay, Ay, Ay, Ay,\n- \"ir\"Tr~'P3\nAy, Ay, Ay, Ay, Ay, Ay, Ay,\n2. Sijilguna vez en el pechojfy, Ay, Ay,\nel cari\u00f1o no lo abrigas,\nsi^alguna vez en el pechq_Ay, Ay, Ay,\nel cari\u00f1o no lo abrigas,\neng\u00e1\u00f1alo c\u00f3moda un ni\u00f1o,\npero nunca se lo digas,\neng\u00e1\u00f1alo c\u00f3moda un ninoj^y, Ay, Ay,\npero nunca se lo digas. Ay, Ay, Ay, Ay, Ay,\nAy, Ay, Ay, Ay, Ay, Ay, Ay, Ay, Ay,\nAy.\nCopyrighted Edward B. Marks Music Corporation, R.C.A. Bldg., Radio City, New York. Used by permission\n149\n\u00a1 C F. Vedani\nAdi\u00f3s, Muchachos\nSand\ners\nH\nThis is probably one of the best known tangos, the famous national dance of Argentina.\nChorns:\n^\nE I I l F\nA -dios, mu- cha- chos, cow -pa - l\u00ede- ros de mi vi - da, ba.-rra que-\nI 1 et f \u00abTU1 g\nSi\n^s\n\u00cb\n\u00ab=?\np\nmp\nri - da deua - que - Nos tiem - pos. Me tocaba mi hoy emprender la re\u00ab t\u00ed\nra - da, de-bo^a-le - jar \u00bfme de mi bue-na mu-cha -cha-da.A- dios, mu\n\u00bb'g i ii fjli J,'f \/IAIEg g'r^^\ncha-chos, ya me voy y me re - sig - no ron - travel des ti - no na-die la\ni\nr\u00abg g j\u00a1 J j' j j jjjijiJ'jWj'ji\nta - lia, se ter - mi - na - ron pa - ra mi to-das las fa - rras, micuer-poen\nbyj> j j j. j, jij,^ j jy, ji g J- j,\n- fer -mo no re - sis - te mas. 1. A eu - den a mi men - te, re\n\u00f6\nJ J J ' ' -\nrjyi\u00bb Ji % d- j\neuer -dos dej> tros tiem pos, de los be-l\u00edos mo -ment\u2014os quedan\n\"''J'J M ir I? F g i g i F F g^ i\nta - no dis - fru - t\u00e9. Cer - qui - ta de mi ma - dre, san - ta\nvie\nfe\u2014y-fr\nff p _R i * _>\nb F \u25a0 t|\u00ab \u25a0\nh-\n1 1 J* J1 j J j ^^ft\nji - ta y de mi no - vie - cit - ta que tan - tqj - do - la\n\u00c9\n\u00abJ J! J'#i i I g J J > J'^P\ntre- Se^a - euer - dan que^e -Va her - mo - sa, mas be - IIa queu\nna 1\nm\n\u00a5\ng g J g ' P^^\nS\nmp\ns\nzon, mas el Se\nnor, ce\nlo\nso\nde sus en - can - tos, hun -\nfc\nrnm^\nt\n&E\n=**\ndien - do\nHan\nto\nmejsn el\n\u00ef. Es Dios el juez supremo no hay quien se le resista,\nya estoy acostumbrado su ley a respetar,\npues mi vida deshizo con sus mandatos,\nal robarme mi madre y mi novia tambi\u00e9n.\nDos lagrimas sinceras derramojen mi partida\npor la barra querida que nunca mejolvido, |\ny al darle a mis amigos-mi adi\u00f3s postrero,\nle doy con toda el alma mi bendici\u00f3n\nme la\n^^\nHe\nvo.\nJv permission of the owners of the copyrifihl in Canada, Southern Musk Publishing Co. (Canada) Ltd.\n151\nJ Luigi Denza\n(184\u00d6-1922)\nSanta Lucia\nLuigi Denza\nSanta Lucia is the patron Saint of the old Italian City of Naples.\n#\u00fc\n\u00a5\nmmg\n^\njD-\n1. Now'neath the sil-ver moon o - cean is glow - ing,\n1. Sul ma - re lue - ci - ca l'as - tro (Tar - gen - to\nm\n4 hJ bo\nJ i l J J\nO'er the calm bil. - low soft winds are blow - ing;\nPia - ci - da \u00e8 l'on - da, pros - per - Oj\u00e8^JI ven - to.\nm\nn j\nMere balm - y braez - es blow.\nVe - ni - recall' a - gi - le,\nX3\npure\nbar\njoys\ncher\nm\nta\nvite\nmi\nus,\na,\nm\nfr=ft\nH* b d\n^\n=o\nAnd as we gent\nSan ta Lu ci\n\u25a0 ly row,\na,\nall things de - light us.\nSan - ta Lu - ci - a.\nz\u00bb , Chorea: . .\t\n^^\n*\n^^\nHark, how the sai - lor's cry\nCon que - sto zef - fi - ro\njoy - ous - ly e - choes nigh:\nco - si so - a ve,\n,]\u25a0\u25a0\u25a0 ti n \u00bfj i c i\n\u00fc\u00fc\nm\n\"San - ta\nOf com\nLu - ci - a!\n\u00e8 bel - lo\nSan - ta\nstar sul\nLu\nla\nCl\nna\nve!\nHome of fair Po - e - sy,\nSu pass - ag \u2022 gie ri,\nRealm of pure Har - mo - ny,\nve - ni - te\nVI\nrx\nr ir p \u00bb\nSan -\nta\nLu\n- ci\n- a!\nSan -\nta\nSan\n- ta\nLu \u25a0\n\u25a0 Cl\n- a,\nSan\n- ta\nLu\nU\nCl\nci\n152 2. When o'er thy waters light winds are playing,\nThy spell can soothe us, all care allaying;\nTo thee, sweet Napoli, what charms are given,\nWhere smiles creation, toil blest by Heaven.\nHark how the sailor's cry joyously echoes nigh:\n\"Santa Lucia! Santa Lucia!\"\nHome of fair Poesy, Realm of pure Harmony,\nSanta Lucia! Santa Lucia!\n153\n-\u2014\u25a0- Adaption by\nD. \u00c7 Morton, Arts '49\nStenka Razin\nRussian Folk Song\n$\u00ea\n^ mmmm\ni\n4EWW\nw-^\n1.\nWhere the\nis\n- lands\nof\nthe\nVol\n- 9*\nGuard the\n1.\nIz xa\n0\n- stro -\nva\nna\nsite \u2022\nzhen,\nNa pro\nf-lhT^\nmm^\nen - trance to the sea,\nst\u00f6r rech - noi vol - ny,\nCome the ships of S ten - ka\nVy - ply - va - yut ras \u2022 pis\n^\nn~mt^rv\\\nAnd the sounds of rev - el - ry,\nSten - ki Ra - \u00bb - na chel - ny\nChorus:\nm j\u00bb\nCome the\nVy - ply\n-P-g-F I r ^..\u00bfL\u00abL_\u00bf.^pJl\nshios of Sten - ka\nva - yut ras - pis\nRa - zin, And the sounds of rev-el \u25a0 ry.\nuy - e# Sten - ki Ra - zi - na chel-ny.\nIt's his wedding celebration.\nOn a cask of Cossack wine,\nStenka holds his Persian princess,\nGazing in her eyes divine.\nIn their beards his Cossacks mumble,\n\"Stenka has forgot his men.\n\/Let him throw aside this woman,\nLet him lead us once again!\"\nStenka Razin hears their murmur\n'Gainst the princess on his knee,\nSo he takes that lovely creature,\nAnd he throws her in the sea.\nBy permission of Colonial Music Publishing Co., Inc.\n154\nNa pe red ne m Stenka Razin,\nObnyavshis sidit s knizhnoi.\nSvadbu novuyu spravh\/aet,\nOn vesyoly i chmelnoi.\nVolga, Volga, mat rodnaya,\nVolga, russkaya reka.\nNe vida la I ry podarka,\nOt donskovo kazaka. Traditional\nWQ^m\nOchi Chornye\nRussian Folk Song\n^^^\u00cbg\u00cb^\u00cal\n1\n1. 0 chi\nEyes so\nchor - ny - e,\ndark and clear.\no - chi\nEyes of\nzhgu - chi - e,\nlove - and fear,\n^-r-^T^T^m^r^^^oi^^^m\nO - chi stra - stny - e\nBeau - ti - ful and true,\ni pre - kras - ny - e,\nI'm in love with you;\n\u00ef T~~r=Tfi\nKak lyu - blyu\nGleam - ing eyes\nya vas,\nof love,\nkak bo - yus ya vas;\nAs the stars a - bove,\ng^^\u00ca\u00caI\u00ca^^S\u00ca\u00ca\u00ca\u00cam\nZnat u - vi - del vas,\nYou have won my heart,\nya ne v do - bry chas.\nMay we nev - er part!\n2. Ne vstrechal by vas, yab ne muchilsa,\nYa by prozhii zhizn, pripyevayuchi, \\\nVy zgubili menya, ochi chornye, \\\nUnesli navyek moyo schastie.\nBy permission of M. M. Cole Publishing Co.\n\/\n155 Songs of the A - Roving\nTraditional\nVerses 2-4 by A. McLennan\nCapstan Chanty\nThis is probably the oldest of the Capstan, or Heaving, Chanties which were sung while pulling up the\nanchor before leaving port. The melody is an old Elizabethan tune.\nm\nm\nK\n\u00ef\nW\n^\n^\n1. At number three Old Eng- land Square, Mark well what I do\nF If M1\nI' J J1 J\"\nffbr\u00bb\n^=P^=?\nsay:\nAt number three Old Eng-land Square, My Nan-cy Daw-son\n\u00d6\nm\n\u00bf=^J\u00dc JJJ|\u00a3J\" F\nshe lived there, And I'll go no more a - rov\nChorus: i\ning, With you, fair maid!\nafe*\nF Ir J\nm\nf J> j j-\nin. I'll\nrov\ninq! a . rov \u2022 ing! Since rov- ing's been my ru\nft Jl J J J' | g^\ngo no more\nrov\ning with vou,\nfair\nmaid.\n2. My Nancy Dawson she lived there,\nMark well what I do say;\nShe was a lass surpassing fair,\nShe'd bright blue eyes and golden hair\u2014\n3. I met her first when home from sea,\nMark well what I do say;\nHome from the coast of Africkee,\nWith pockets lined with good monie;\u2014\n4. 0, didn't I tell her stories true!\nMark well what I do say;\nAnd didn't I tell her woppers, too,\nOf the gold we found in Timbuctoo!\u2014\n5. But when we'd spent my blooming \"screw,\"\nMark well what I do say;\nAnd the whole of the gold from Timbuctoo\nShe cut her stick and vanished too;\u2014\n158 The Rio Grande\nTraditional\nCapstan Chanty\nAnother Capstan Chanty which was used almost wholely when heaving up the anchor outward bound. It\ndates back to the period of the Mexican War when many Yankee ships were delivering contraband below\nthe Rio Grande.\nSolo ' Chorus:\nfy \u00ef f 11 m \u00ef^gmmm^LMt r\u00df\n1. Oh, say, were you ever in Ri - o Grande? Way ^ Ri - o.\nIt's there that the riv - er flows down gold - en sand And we're\nm m \u00bfm\nbound for the Ri - o Grande. Then a - way, love, a - way.\n$mm J1 f f r^r i Bill M| ||\nWay down Ri - o, So tare ye well, my\nI^m=m^ j> m M i1 m*\\mW\npr\u00eat - ty young gel, For we're bound for the Ri - o Grande.\n2. And good-bye, fare you well, all you ladies of town,\nWe've left you enough for to buy a silk gown.\n3. So it's pack up your donkey and get under way,\nThe girls we are leaving can take our half-pay.\n4. Now you Bowery ladies, we'd have you to know,\nWe're bound to the Southward, O Lord, let us go.\n159 Shenandoah\nTraditional\nCapstan Chanty\nShenandoah was a famous Indian Chief whose camp was situated on the banks of the Missouri River. This\nis also a Capstan Chanty but in contrast to the longing for the open sea expressed in \"A-Roving\", the feeling here is one of wistful sadness at the thought of leaving home. Captain Whall suggests that the song\noriginated among the Voyageurs.\nSolo:\nQ\/orus:\n1. Oh Shen-an doah, I long to hear you, A - way you roll - ing\n\u00bba i SqJoj _ i l. . r\u00bf\u00ed3 . Cborut:\nfcfflj* 7 lit F F r \u00abr JJIU j\nriv - er. Oh Shen \u2022 an- doah, I long to hear you, A -\ntpj- M-fHf u\u00bb, j\u00bbj. ju 7~fn\nway I'm bound to go,\n2. Oh, Shenandoah, I love your daughter.\nOh, Shenandoah, I love your daughter,\n3. Tis seven long years since last I see thee,\nTis seven long years since last I see thee,\n4. Oh, Shenandoah, I took a notion\nTo sail across the stormy ocean,\n5. Oh, Shenandoah, I'm bound to leave you,\nOh, Shenandoah, I'll not deceive you,\n6. Oh, Shenandoah, I bug to hear you,\nOh, Shenandoah, I long to hear you,\n'Cross the wide Mis - sou\nri.\nBy permission, J. Curwen and Sons, Ltd., London. Eng. From Shanty Book. Part I, collected and eUtte&by\nSir Richard Terry. When Johnny Comes to Hilo\nTraditional\nCapstan Chanty\nThis is also a Capstan Chanty, but is of negro origin and was very rarely sung by white sailors.\n%\nte\ng-g ; g r f i f p -P ^^\n^&\n1. I neb-ber see de hke since\n#\u00c8\n*\nI been born,\nChorus:\nWhen a\n\u00a3\nf^\u00a3\n^\n^\nbig buck nigger wid his sea - boots on Says, \"Johnny, come down to\n*7\\\n\u00cd\nPP\nHi - lo,\npoor old\nman,\nOh, wake her,\noh.\nl^fc^\n^p^\nI' J? j!\nshake her, Oh, wake dat gal wid de\nblue dress on, When\nm$\nmm\n\u00e4\nJohn-ny comes down to Hi - Iq.\npoor\nold\nman.\n2. I tub a little gel across de sea.\nShe's a dark-eyed beauty and she sez to me,\n3. Oh, was you ebber down in Orleans Bay?\nWhere dey totes de cotton on a summer day,\n4. Did you ebber see de ole Plantation Boss\nAnd de shorttailed filly and de big white boss?\n161 KM\n\u00a1>\nTraditional\nBlow the man down\nHalyard Chanty\nA Halyard, or hauling, Chanty used when the sails were being raised. \"Blow\" was an old sailors' term for\n\"knock\", and the third mate was endearingly termed the third \"blower\"\nSolo:\n3E\n#=\n. Chorus:\nI. Oh, blow the man down, bul- lies, blow the man down! To me\nSolo: .Mfcjv'^\n^=^=ff^jJZTJ^i\nway aye,\n_\nblow the man down. Oh, blow the man\nChorm:\ndown, bul - lies, blow. him a - way. Give me some\n^IpPPpi^.\ntime\nto blow the man down.\n2. As I was a walking down Paradise Street,\nA pretty young damsel I chanced for to meet.\n3. She was round in the counter and bluff in the bow,\nSo I took in all sail and cried, \"Way enough now\n4. So I tailed her my flipper and took her in tow,\nAnd yard-arm to yardarm away we did go.\n5. But as we were going she said unto me,\n'There's a spanking full-rigger just ready for sea.\"\n6. But as soon as that packet was clear of the bar,\nThe mate knocked me down with the end of a spar\n7. And as soon as that packet had put out to sea,\nTwas devilish hard treatment in every degree.\n8. So I give you fair warning before we belay,\nDon't ever take heed of what pretty girls say.\n162 The Drunken Sailor\nTraditional\nRunaway Chanty\nA Runaway, or \"stamp and go\", Chanty, it was usually sung by all hands as they ran down the deck with\nthe braces when swinging the yard's around while tacking ship.\ni1 J \u00bf JrpTT=y^t^.^g\n1. What shall we do with the drunken sailor? What shall we do\n\u00aerrm[m-j~jm\u00c8\u00ca\u00ca\n\u00ed\nwith the drunk - en sail - or? What shall we do with the\nwmml\n-m^rr^\n#\ndrunk - en sail - or? Ear - ly in the\nChorus:\nmorn - ing.'\npfcLJ-j^Jaj-^-i\nWay, hey, and up she ris - es, Way, hey, and up she ris - es\ni\nWay, hey, and up she ris - es, Ear - h\/ in the morn - ing!\n2. Put him in the long-boat till he's sober.\n3. Tie him to the raff rail when, the yard goes under\n4. Hoist him by the leg in a running bowline.\n5. Put him in a leaky boat and'make him bail her.\n6. That's what we'll do to the drunken sailor.\n16S Anon.\nA Capital Ship\nAnon.\n\u00e7 i? r r p (^^\n^^\n1. A cap - i - tal ship for an o - cean trip Was the\nJ J J ii'J\n3\u00dc\u00dc\n^\nWal - lop - ing Win - dow Blind,\" No gale that blew dis\n=J J I J \u00eb^\u00eb\nr \u00bf ^t^^^g\nmay'd her crew, Or trou bled the cap - tain's mind.\nThe\nmm j\np^^\u00ef\nman at the wheel was made to feel, Con -\n\/SN \/SN **n\n5=1*\ni\n:\t\ntempt for the wild - est blow - ow - 0w, . Tho' it\n\u00a3=\u00a3\nJ- i i J\u00bb ^\ne*=#\n\u2022^Pi i\noft - en ap - pear'd, when the weath - er had clear'd, That he'd\nChorus:\nJ1 J1 J. jljL ' d 'iJi i\nbeen in his bunk be - low. Then blow, ye winds, heigh\nHM'-^f\nm m^ m\nho!\nA - rov I ing 1 will go! ' 111 stay no more on\nm\nmmm\u00bfmm\n> >\nEng land's shore, So let the mu sic. play ay - ay! I'm\nj J-M i-i \u25a0'*+* ^^+-t-l\u00a3: g\noff on the morn - ing train, To cross the raging main! I'm\ntf> r r p r F FiJ-^ui- j.ij j i JO..\noff to my love with a box - ing glove, Ten thou sand miles a - way!\n164 0M^g*mmmm^Bm&m*mm\n2. The boatswain's mate was.very sedate.\nYet fond of amusement, too;\nAnd he'd play hop-scotch with the starboard watch\nWhile the captain tickled the crew.\nAnd the gunner we had was apparently mad,\nFor he sat on the after rai-ai-ail,\nAnd fired salutes with the captain's boots, f\nIn the teeth of the booming gale.\n3. The captain sat in a commodore's hat,\nAnd dined in a royal way\nOn toasted pigs and pickles and figs\nAnd gummery bread each day.\nBut the cook was Dutch, and behav'd as such;\nFor the food that he gave the crew-ew-ew\nWas a number of tons of hot-cross buns\nChopp'd up with sugar and glue.\n4. And we all fell ill, as mariners will,\nOn a diet that's cheap and rude;\nAnd we shiver'd and shook as we dipp'd the cook\nIn a tub of his glue-some food.\nThen nautical pride we laid aside,\nAnd we cast the vessel asho-o-ore\n. On the Gulliby Isles, where the Pooh-pooh smiles,\nArid the Anacazanders roar.\n5. Compos'd of sand was that favor'd land,\nAnd trimm'd with cinnamon straws;\nAnd pink and blue was the pleasing hue\nOf the tickle-toe teaser's claws.\nAnd we sat on the edge of a sandy ledge.\nAnd shot at the whistling bee-ee-ee;\nAnd the Binnacle bats wore waterproof hats\nAs they danc'd in the sounding sea.\n6. On rub-a-grub bark, from dawn to dark,\nWe fed till we all had grown\nUncommonly shrunk; when a Chinese junk\nCame by from the torriby zone.\nShe was chubby and square, but we didn't much care,\nAnd we cheerily put to sea-ea-ea;\nAnd we left the crew of the junk to chew\nThe bark of the rub-a-grub tree. if\n\\4^^^ Son\u00e9s of the Hills\nand the Plains Traditional\nDown in the Valley\nAn old love song from the Kentucky mountains.\nTraditional\nifrfl j i \u00a1\nfefe\u00a3\nPP\nm=^\nm^\n1. Down in the val - ley, the val- ley so low,\nHang your head\n$\n^\nver, hear the wind blow.\nw\n^\nsa\nt=:\u00ed\nHear the wind blow, dear, hear the wind\nfel\nW\nP^P\nblow,\nHang your head o - ver, hear the wind blow.\n2. Writing this letter, containing three lines,\nAnswer my question, will you be mine?\nWitt you be mine, dear, will you be mine?\nAnswer my question, will you be mine?\n3. Roses love sunshine, violets love dew,\nAngels in heaven, know I love you.\nKnow I love you, dear, know I love you,\nAngels in heaven, know I love you.\n168 Reuben and Rachel\nTraditional\nTraditional\n@S\n\u00bfm\nNj i J J'\nnf\n1. Reu\nRa\nJ' J J i J'\nben, Reu - ben, I've been think\nchel, Ra - chel, I've been think\n0\n\u00bft\ning What a queer world\ning What a queer world\nthis would be,\nthis would be,\nP i j \u00cd ,\nIf\nIf\nthe men were\nthe girls were\n\u00a3=\u00a3\nall trans\nall trans\noort - ed,\nport - ed.\nFar\nFar\nbe\nbe\nyond the\nyond the\nNorth - ern Sea!\nNorth - ern Sea!\n2. Reuben, Reuben, I've been thinking\nIf we went beyond the seas,\nThat the men would follow after\nLike a swarm of humble-bees.\nRachel, Rachel, I've been thinking\nIf we went beyond the seas,\nAll the girls would follow after\nLike a swarm of honey-bees.\n3. Reuben, Reuben, stop your teasing,\nIf you've any love for me,\nI was only just a-foolin',\nAs I think you plainly see.\nRachel, if you'll not transport us,\nI will take you for my wife,\nAnd I'll split with you my money\nEvery pay day of my life. I )\nWait for the Wagon\nR. B. Buckley R. B. Buckley\nJCJLJLLC\u2014ri\nm^\nm\n3Z3J3=^^\nS\u00ed\n1. Will you come with me. my Phyl - lis dear. To yon blue moun-tain\n\u00dc\nrm^^\nm\nfree? Where bios - soms smell the sweet - est, Come rove a - long with\nme. It's ev - 'rv Sun-day morn - ing, dear, When I am by your side,\nWe'll jump in - to the wag - on. And all take a ride.\nChorus:\n*mm\u00a7\nrjri p.\nWait for the wag - en, Wait\nfor the wag - on,\n^\u00bfJ^_\u00a1Er^zJiP\nWait\nfor the wag - on, And we'll all take a ride.\nii\n2. Where the river runs like silver,\nAnd the birds they sing so sweet,\nI have a cabin, Phyllis,\nAnd something good to eat.\nCome, listen to my story, now.\nIt will relieve my heart.\nSo jump into the wagon\nAnd off we will start..\n170 Traditional\nThe Quilting Party\nTraditional\n1. In the sky the briqht stars glit-ter'd,\nOn the bank the\n\u00cd\u00dc\nmm\nrfTT\npale moon shone,\nAnd 'twas from\nAunt Di - nah's\nJIPFJ\nquilt - ing\nChorus\npar - ty I was see - ing Nel - lie\nhome.\n\u00bfJLi \u00bfU^4:fXiprf^\nI was see - ing Nel - lie home;\nI was see - ing Nel -lie\n$\nmm^m\n^S^EJgip\nhome, And 'twas from Aunt Di - nah's \u00abuilt - ing par - ty\nj^^f^mw\nI was see - ing Nel - lie\n\/7S\nhome.\n2. On my arm a soft hand rested,\nRested light as ocean foam;\n3. On my lips a whisper trembled,\nTrembled till it dared to come;\n4. On my life new hopes were dawning,\nAnd these hopes have lived and grown;\n171\nJ \u2014=-\nI\nBig Rock Candy Mountain\nTraditional Traditional\n4=\nm\u00a7\n&y~\u00b1mi\n1. On a sum - mer day in the month of May, A bur- ly bum came\n\u00cd\nm\ns\nhik\ning Down a sha - dy lane, through the su - gar cane He was\n$\nJ JU^fJI J J J fr^\nlook\npp\u00bb\ning for nis lik - ing; As he roamed a - long he sang a song Of the\n1\n3\nmm\ns\nland of milk and hon - ey, Where a\nbum can stay\nfoi\nI J J ~j\n\u00c9\nma - ny a\nChorus:\nday And he won't need\nW\ni\nan\nmoney.\n3\n-\u00b1\u00b1\u00b1+\nOh! the buzz\nin\nof the bees in the cig - a - rette trees, Near the\nm\n^m\nso\nda wa - ter foun - tain At the lem-on-ade springs Where the\nfill\nm m\nT=^J--i-^i\nblue - bird sings. On the Big Rock Can - dy\nMoun\ntain.\n2. High up in the sky the clouds sail by,\nAnd the birds are singing lightly,\nAnd the rain and the snow and the wind don't blow,\nAnd the sun is shining brightly.\nIf you just reach out to the bushes about 4.\nYou can pick a pound of candy,\nAnd the chocolate cake by the ice-cream lake\nIn little heaps is standing.\n3. Oh, the lollipops and the sugardrops\nGrow all over the place like clover.\nWhile the hot dogs race, and bark and chase\nThe ginger-bread cats all over.\nIf one stands on toe 'neath the trees that grow,\nBy the side of the soda fountain,\nOne can pick pea-nuts as much as one wants\nAnd you never need to count 'em.\nNow out on the run came the farmer and his son,\nTo the hay fields they were bounding.\nSaid the bum to the son, \"Why don't you come\nTo that Big Rock Candy Mountain?\"\nSo the very next day they hiked away,\nAll the mile posts they kept counting,\nBut they never arrived at the lemonade tide\nOn the Big Rock Candy Mountain.\n172 Hallelujah I'm a Bum\nTraditional\nTraditional\nGeorge Milburn, in bis \"Hobo's Hornbook\", says that a version of the famous bobo song was found scribbled on the wall of the Kansas City jail where an old hobo known as \"One-finger Ellis\" had spent the night\nrecovering from an overdose of rotgut whiskey.\ni\nte\n*\nm\n1. Oh, why don't I work like o - ther men do? How the\nChorus:\nifj,^ f j. f\\r |* J\nJ U p P\nhell can I work when the skies are so blue!*\nHal\nift, r , ji-jnj p. gi r^\n^\n\u2022* 1 g\n\u00c9^\nu - jah! I'm a bum,\nHal - le - lu - jah! bum again, Hal-le-\nT\nlu - jah! give us a hand - out, And re - vive\nus\ngain.\n2. Oh, I love my boss and my boss loves me,\nAnd that is the reason I'm so hungery.\n3. Oh, the springtime has come and I'm just out of jail,\nWithout any money, without any bail.\n4. I went to a house and I knocked on the door;\nA lady came out, says, \"You been here before.\n5. I went to a house, and I asked for a piece of bread;\nA lady came out, says, 'The baker is dead.\"\n6. When springtime does come, oh, won't we have fun,\nWe'll throw up our jobs and we'll go on the bum.\nBy permission of Francis, Day and Hunter, Ltd.\n178 Traditional\nCasey Jones\nTraditional\nMany songs bave been sung about Casey Jones and the famous tram wreck of \u00a1909. At the time\nof the tragedy, according to one legend, Casey, throttle puller of the Illinois Central's crack\n\"Cannonball\", was driving No. 6)8, making a run for a friend who was ill. The train was wrecked\nat Vaughan, Mississippi, and Casey died at the throttle. Wallace Saunders, bis Negro engine\nwiper, set down the story of bis death.\n 1 \u00e7\u2014j^l\n1. Ceme all you round - ers. that\nwant\nto hear The\ntftr\u00abl 4\nSto - ry of\nJ i J- il\u00bf\na brave en - gi - neer. Ca - sey Jones was the\nfL_j j. \u00bfiu^^^T^^p\nround - er's name, On a big eight-wheel - er, boys, he\nwon\nhis fame.\nif^l? f I ;iJl\nThe call - er called Ca - sey at\nhalf - past four, He\n\/ J- J'l E MP\nwm\nkissed his *vrfe at the sta - tien door, He mount - ed to the\nl$ft' 'J > > 1 y f f j J\nca - bin with the or - ders in\nhis hand,\nAnd he\nI I I I O' * .I^JJ-jrp1\ntook his fare - well trip\nChorus\nto that pro - mised land.\ni i.norus:\no j. j \\f. p r y p r i j\u00bb j. j ^\nCa - sey Jones, mount - ed to his cab - in,\nCa - sey Jones\nj\u00efj j \\f p r y f i j \u00bf \u00abj i\nwrth his or - ders in his hand. Ca - sev Jones\nty 9 ? P f F I J' ' a*.'\nCa - sey Jones\n\" J J J'\nmount - ed to\nhis cab - in, And he took his fare - well 2. When he pulled up that Reno hill,\nHe whistled for the crossing with an awful shrill;\nThe switchman knew by the engine's moan\nThat the man at the throttle was Casey Jones.\nHe looked at his water and his water was low;\nHe looked at his watch and his watch was slow;\nHe turned to his fireman and this is what he said,\nBoy, we're going to reach Frisco, but we'll all be dead.\nCasey Jones\u2014 going to reach Frisco,\nCasey Jones\u2014 but we'll all be dead,\nCasey Jones\u2014 going to reach Frisco,\nWe're going to reach Frisco, but we'll all be dead.\nSo turn on your water and shovel in your coal,\nStick your head out the window, watch those drivers roll;\nI'll drive her till she leaves the rail,\nFor I'm eight hours late by that Western Mail.\nWhen he was within six miles of the place,\nThere number four stared him straight in the face.\nHe turned to his fireman, said, \"Jim, you'd better jump,\nFor there're two locomotives that are going to bump.\"\nCasey Jones\u2014 two locomotives,\nCasey Jones\u2014 going to bump,\nCasey Jones\u2014 two locomotives,\nThere're two locomotives that are going to bump.\n4. Casey said just before he died,\n\"There're two more roads I would like to ride,\nThe fireman said, 'Which ones can they be?\"\n\"Oh, the Northern Pacific and the Santa Fe.\"\nMrs. Jones sat at her bed a-sighing\nJust to hear the news that her Casey was dying.\n\"Hush up you children, and quit your cryin',\nFor you've got another poppa on the Salt Lake Line.'\nCasey Jones\u2014- got another poppa.\nCasey Jones\u2014 on the Salt Lake Line,\nCasey Jones\u2014 got another poppa.\nFor you've got another poppa on the Saft Lake Line.\n175 IV'\nI Been Wukkin' on de Railroad\nTraditional\nTraditional\nLike \"Sbe'tt be Coming Round the Mountain\" and \"Clementine'', this song was sung by the railroad gangs\nduring the construction of the first trans-continental railroad, \"The Union Pacific, which was approved\nby Lincoln as a war measure.\nffgj'U i j\"\n*~s=ft\nS s\nE\u00c9\n^m\nfc=3fc\n1. Oh, I was bo'n in Mo-bile town, I'm wuk-kin' on de lev - ee.\n*\nmwm\n\/ij- if\nAll day I roll de cot ton down, A - wuk kin' on de . lev ee.\nChorus:\nfcflJ. j. Ji-jr\/ *\\r~TTr- p J Jlfy\u00f1\nI been wuk - kin' on de rail - road all de live-long day,\n\u00e4j>*j- j> J j? J- iip J. JiJ- ^J |>icJ._jJ5g\n1 been wuk- kin' on de rail - road to pass de time\na \u2022 way.\np\n*=h\n^-Jrr^-^-[-r=r=\u00a1rr^^^\nDoan' yo' hyar de whis - tie blow - in? Rise up so ear - ly in de\ntjlf^r i \u00bb \\ \u00bf. j\u00bb \u25a0\/\u25a0 j\u00bb \u00abh \/ i j, j\nmawn.\nDoan'\nyo' hyar de Cap\nshout\nin*,\nm\nf\nf j i \u00bf_^^m\n'Di - nah, blow yo' hawn!'\n2. I use' to have a dog name' till,\nA-wukkin' on de levee.\nHe run away, but I'm here still,\nA-wukkin' on de levee.\n*j \u2014 3. Dat li'i ole dog up an' beg,\nA-wukkin' on de levee,\nTill I done give him chicken lee\nA-wukkin' on de levee.\n176 Oh! Bury me not on the Lone Prairie\nTraditional\nTraditional\n\"ft* j J' i\njCSZ\nm^^\njct\n1. Oh! bu- ry me not\non the lone prai - r\u00ede\nfl\nS\n1=\n1\nHCT\nThese words came low\ntyl j j* J 5\u00cd\nand mourn - ful - ly\nFrom the pal - lid li\njp\n\u00bb\nOn his dy - ing bed\n2. Oh! bury me not on the lone prairie\nWhere the kyotes howl and the wind blows free\nIn a narrow grave just six by three\nOh! bury me not on the lone prairie.\n3. It matters not I've oft been told\nWhere the body lies when the heart grows cold\nYet grant oh! grant this wish to me\nOh! bury me not on the lone prairie.\nOh! bury me not on the lone prairie\nWhere the wolves can howl and growl o'er me\nPlace a red, red rose o'er my lonely grave\nWith a pray'r to Him who my soul will save. Home on the Range\nTraditional\nTraditional\ni^^^j^y^^^jd-^zfe^\n19 Oh, give me a home, where the buf - fa - lo roam,\nfflfrrri7- -i=?t j;- -7 j r,e ^F=%t\nAnd the deer and the an - te - lope play. Where\nsel - dorn is heard a dis - cour - ag - ing word. And the\nskies are not cloud\nC&oriM.'\n\u00ab6=\nall day.-\nJ-\np\u2014[-J\u2014r~J\u00a3\u00bbEfe^. p 11 j\u00fc\u00e9-J I\nHome, home on the range,\nwhere the deer and the\nS^B^\n^ct\nan - te - lope play\n^ OZffi^\nWhere sei - dorn is heard a dis\nFtfW\nj- jjirrar^p\nif\ncour - ag - ing word, And the skies are not cloudy all day\nm\n2. Oh, give me a land where the white dia - mond sand Flows\n0JL p r l4-J^B^\nmer - ri - h\/ down the stream. And the grace \u2022 ful white\n\u00a3xr i r^-f-i- J \u00a1Up ? I r , \u00e7.\nswan goes glid - ing a - long, Like a maid in\nfffa=F^ J.\u25a0;\", i i -i,... j\u00ebbji\nheav - en\nly drea\nD.C. A i Fine\nm.\n178 Where the air is so pure and the zephyrs so free\nAnd the breezes so balmy and light,\nThat I would not exchange my home on the range\nFor all of the cities so bright.\nHome, home on the range,\nWhere the deer and the antelope play,\nWhere seldom is heard a discouraging word,\nAnd the skies are not cloudy all day.\nHow often at night, when the heavens were bright\nWith the light of the glittering stars,\nHave I stood there amazed, and I asked as I gazed,\nIf their glory exceeds that of ours.\nThen the stars looking down, answered me on the ground,\n'There are many things wondrous and strange,\nBut surely the best is the peace and the rest\nWhich are found in a home on the range.\"\nHome, home on the range,\nWhere the deer and the antelope play,\nWhere seldom is heard a discouraging word,\nAnd the skies are not cloudy all day.\n179 The Yellow Rose of Texas\nTraditional Traditional\np*p\nS\n0 O\n1. There's a yel - low rose in Tex - as, I'm go - ing there to\n\u00a7\nm Jir r p\n5\nsee, No o - ther fel - low knows her, No - body, on - ly\nP\ni\u00bb ir f r ri f f J|j J j j\nX\u00cf\nme. She cried the day I left her, It al - most broke her\n|\n4 v i r r r^\ns\np i\nheart,\nAnd if. we\nev - er meet a . - gain I know we'll nev - er 2. Where the yellow Rio's flowing\nThe stars are shining bright,\nWe walked down by the River\nOn a lovely summer night,\nShe said, \"If you remember\u2014\"\nWe parted long ago,\nI promised to come back again\nAnd never leave her so.\nI'm going back to find her.\nMy heart is full of woe,\nWe'll sing the songs together\nThat we sang long ago,\nI'll strum the banjo gaily\nAnd sing the songs of yore,\nAnd the Yellow Rose of Texas\nWill be mine for ever more.\nII\nTraditional\n\u00c9\nRed River Valley\nTraditional\n\u00a3\n\u00ca\n1. From .this val - ley they say\nCome and sit by my side\nyou are go - ing,\nif you love me,\n\u2014w\t\nWe will\nDo not\nr r r\n\u00a3W\n122\njTh-f\n3\u00dc\nmiss your bright eyes and sweet smile,\nhas - ten to bid me a - dieu,\nflf r ru.;ij\nfc\nFor they say you are tak-ing the\nBut re-memrber the Red Ri-ver\nS\nf\n3d\nsun - shine,\nVaHey,\nThat bright ens our path. - way a - while.\nAnd the girl that has loved you so true.\n2. Won't you think of the valley you're leaving?\nOh, how lonely, how sad it will be,\nOh think of the fond heart you're breaking.\nAnd the grief you are causing me.\n3. From this valley they say you are going,\nWhen you go, may your darling go, too?\nWould you leave her behind unprotected\nWhen she loves no other but you?\n4. I have promised you, darling, that never\nWill a word from my lips cause you pain;\nAnd my life, it will be yours forever\nIf you only will love me again.\n181 Tradil\nWhoopee-ti-yi-yo\nlonal\nTraditional\n\u00cd\u00c9* gg\u00f6r~r~M-iJ- \/-JUM\n1. As I was a - walk \u2022 ing one mom. - ing for pleasure, I\nspied a cow - punch - er all\n-J=m^\nrid - ing a - lone,\nHis\niff m-f y-f=m^_ \\ i > J' j^ ^\nhat was thrown back and his\nspurs was a \u2022 jing - ling, And\nJf i? r r \" J* \u25a0 iJ|- \/~^^\ni\n'4\nas\n(.'bon\u00bb\nhe ap - proached he was\nsing - ing this song:\n'-; \u00a1rrrT~g~^ i&^j \/ j- j- '\nWhoo \u2022 pee\nT\u00ef Yi Yo?\nGit a - long \/ lit - tie Do - gies, It's\nm^j r^\u00ed t \u00bf--J.rp[z~]\nyour mis\nfor\ntune and none\n*\nr m\nof my own. Whoo - pee\nh\nTi\nYi\nYo!\nGit\n^^=gE=gE\n3^ E=fc=fr\nm\nknow that Wy\nming wil\n2. It's early in Spring that we round up the dogies;\nWe mark them and brand them and bob off their\nWe round up our horses, load up the chuck-wagon,\nAnd then throw the dogies cut onto the frails. .\n3. Some boys go up the trail for pleasure,\nBut that's where they gets it most awfully wrong;\nFor you haven't any idea the trouble they give us,\nWhile we go driving them along. r\nlong lit - He Do - gies, You\n\u00bf^4 mm:\nbe your new home.\ntails.\nYour mother was raised away down in Texas,\nWham the jimson weed and sand-burrs grow,\nNow well fill you up on prickly pear and cholla\nTill you am ready for the trail to Idaho.\nOh, you'll be soup for Uncle Sam's Injuns,\n\"It's beef, heap beef,\" I hear them cry.\nGit along, git along, git along, little dogies,\nYou'll be big beef steers by and by.\n182 Chisholm Trail\nTraditional\nTraditional\nThe Chisholm Trail once wound all the way from San Antonio to Montana. The chorus is probably an imitation of an Indian war-cry, for the Indians taught the Mexicans how to tame and\nride the wild horses and the Mexican Vag\u00fceros taught the Texas cowboys.\n(feW\nmm\nsm\nfe:\nm\nw\ni\nI. Well, come a - long boys, and list - en to my tale, I'll\nfe\nf f f g f ^^\n\u00a3\n\u00b1\ntell you of my trou - bles on the\nChorus:\nold Chis - holm Trail,\nV5=$\nW^\n#\n0 m\nCome a ti.\ny\u00bb, Y\u00bbP\nyip - pi yay,\nCome a\nti.\nV.\ny\u00bbp - P\u00bb#\nyip\nP\"\nyay.\n2. A ten dollar boss and a forty dollar saddle,\nAnd I'm goin' punchin' Texas cattle.\n3. It's cloudy in the west, and it looks like rain,\nAnd my damned old slicker's in the wagon again.\n4. No chaps, no slicker, and it's pourin' down rain,\nAnd I swear, by gosh, I'll never night-herd again.\n5. It's rainin' like hell and it's gettin' mighty cold,\nAnd these long-horned sons-o'-guns are gettin' hard to hold.\n6. My feet in the stirrups and my seat in the saddle,\nI hung on and rattled with them long-horn cattle.\n7. We rounded 'em up and put 'em on the cars,\nAn' that was the last of the old Two Bars.\n8. I'm goin' back to town to draw my money,\nThen I'm goin' back home to see my Honey.\n183 Walter G. Samuels\n- Leonard Whitcup\nand Teddy Powell\nBoots and Saddle\nWalter G. Samuels\nLeonard Whitcup\nand Teddy Powell\n$\u00c9\nmmF^F\nmmm\nm\u00a1\n<> n i\nw\n1. Take me back to my Boots and Sad die,\nLet me ram -ble a - long the prair - ie\u2014\nOoh-ooh -\nOoh - ooh\nV\nm$m\nt\n\u00db\nwm\nooh, Ooh - ooh- ooh, Ooh - ooh - ooh,\nooh, Ooh - ooh - ooh, Ooh - ooh - ooh,\nlet me\nrop - in'\nmm\nw=m\nt\nf T f f\nsee that gen'\nsteers on old\nral store, let me rid\u00ab that range once more,\n\"Bar X\" with my bud - dies, Slim and Tex,\nI\nJTT~^.\n1\nmm\n3\n\u25a0&\u00b1\ngive me\nmy Boots\nand Sad - die\u2014\n^} l J*i f <% r g r f g i-fr 'g i\u2014i\nZ2I\nGot a hank - er - in' to be with a ban - jo on my knee,\nJ\u00ab\nff rn? t\nf^\nstrum - min' a pr\u00eat - ty west - ern tune.\nThere's a\nfff' g f f r f g I F g F' F f\ngal in Cher - o - kee, and she's wait - in' there for me;\na\nVfn r f r r i\u00bf j j\n^^\nwait - in' be - neath a Tex - as moon, so take me back\nto my\nReproduced by kind permission Southern Music Publishing Co. Inc., New York, and Gordon V. Thompson, Ltd.,\nToronto.\n184 4\n\u00ed\n\u00c9gg\nBoots\ni\nand Sad - die.\n\u00ca\n\u20acg\u00bbW\n\u00ca\nOoh - ooh ooh\/ Ooh-ooh -\n5\u00c9\n3\nP\n:Q=\nooh,\nmorn.\n1\nOoh-- ooh - ooh,\nij,* \u00bfj- \u00abfr -jh r j ~f^\nLet me greet each blaz - in'\n:qc\n\u00a3m\u00bfm$\non the ranch where I\nwas born,\ngive me my\n3\nmm\u00e7m\n^m\nse\nBoots\n\u00c9\nP-*-\nooh,\nand Sad - die-\n^m\nOoh \u2022 ooh - ooh, Ooh - ooh\nSi\nOoh - ooh - ooh.\n185 Anon.\nThe Desperado\nl\u00b1j J I J P Pfl.r ^^JLJ_i^\n1. Now there was once a Des - per - a - do from the wild and wool-ly\nif F fly \/ ;\u25a0 j* i j. .\nWest, And he wore a big sont- brer-o and a gun be-neath his\n. j^ji [ m?-~f~f if J j7 j i J* J*\nvest. He came to New York Ci - ty just to give the West a\nM--g-4-M^\"\"^^U UPI\nrest, And ev - 'ry - where he went he yelled a war - whoop.\nChorus:\nHe was a bold, bad ban - dit was this des - per a - do. From\nAnon.\n\"T7J J- \u00abMy\u00abi J'lJ- f gl.\n\u00a3=f_Lf g g F 1 r T g~~\u00a3^_f g g\nCrip - p(e Creek 'way out in\nA\u00bb - i ^ h\ne - ra - do. And he\n'iJf giMFJl\nwild tor - na - do, And ev'ry -where he\nmm\n2. He went to Coney Island just to take in all the sights.\nHe saw the hootchy-kootchers and the ladies dressed in\ntights.\nHe became se excited that he shot out all the lights,\nAnd at he left the place he yelled a war-whoop. 3. H\u00e9 found a mob of gangsters had cleaned out the banks\none day.\nHe twirled his she-guns, shot them up and took their swag\naway.\nAnd when the cops came all he said was: \"Hell, this is child's\nplay!\"\nAnd as he galloped off he yelled a war-whoop.\n4. At last he sighed, \"It ain't no fun out hyar to do no wrong.\nAh'm goin' back tuh whar Ah know the opposition's strong.\nAh'm makin' tracks fer home, it's in the West that Ah belong!\" *\nAnd as he left New York he yelled a war-whoop. Great Grandad\nAnon\nAnon\n^^\nf=!L\u00fc\nmm\nI\u00dc\n1. Great Grand \u2022 dad, when the West was young, Barr'd his door with a\n%\n0 ar\nm=m\n^^\nwag - on tongue, For the times was rough and the red-skins mock'd,\nfrjJ-ii\u00bb \u00e9 r ^\nm\nAnd he said his 011\/\u00bb with his\nshot - gun cock'd.\n2. He was a citizen tough and grim.\nDanger was \"duck-soup\"to him.\nAnd he ate corn-pone and bacon fat,\nAnd his great-grandson would have starved on that\n3. Great Grand-dad was a busy man;\nCooked his grub in a frying pan.'\nHe picked his teeth with his hunting knife,\nAnd wore the same suit all his life.\n4. Twenty-one children came to bless\nThe old man's home in the wilderness.\nDoubt this statement if you can.\nGreat Grand-dad was a busy man.\n5. Twenty-one boys, and how they grew,\nTall and strong on the bacon, too.\nSlept on the floor with the dogs and cats.\nAnd banted the woods in their coon-skin caps.\n188 Sones of the\nSouth Traditional\nSwing Low, Sweet Chariot\nNegro Spiritual\n\/\/ Kings 2:11, \"Behold, there appeared a chariot of fire, and horses of ftre . . . ; and Elijah went up by a\nwhirlwind into Heaven\". This Old Testament story it the foundation of this spiritual m which the Negro\nspeaks of bis longing to go to Heaven in the same way.\nChorus.\n#\nS\u00fcp\u00a1\nm\n^-g-\u00bfJjU\nSwing low, sweet char - i - ot, Com-in' for to carry me home.\nFine\nf^Tr^\u00eejjrT\u00ef-f\u00ee\n^m\nSwing low, sweet char - i - ot, Com-in for to car-ry me home;\nSolo:\nTfT fmm? vj>^mj~mm\n1\n1. I look'd o - ver Jor - dan and what' did I see.\n2=\u00e0=&,\u00a3=t=tL-t If *tg_\u00bf-M\nCom - in' for to car - ry me\ncom -in' at - ter me,\n2. The gates of Heaven will open wide,\nTo let that chariot roll inside.\n3. If you get there before I do;\nTell all my friends I'm comin' too.\nhome.\nA band of an - gels\nDC. AI Fine\ncom - in' for to car - ry me home, Traditional\nGo down, Moses\nNegro Spiritual\nThe origin is lost in mystery, but it is said to have been sung in Africa for many centuries. Scholars have\nprofessed to hear in it a likeness to an ancient Jewish chant.\n1\nSolo:\nw&\nmmm\nChorus :\nw\n33\nmm\n4!m\n1. When Is - rael was in\nSolo:\nE - gypt's land, Let my people\nChorus,\nw\ni J.V'\u00ab1-\ngo!\n$\nOp - pressed so hard they could not stand. Let my people\nm\n:\u00fc=\n=\u00d6\n10-^\nno:\n--flg-^L\n*\ngo!\nGo down, Mo - ses, 'Way down in E - gypt's land,\n^m\nvJ1 o\nTell\nold\nWW\nPua - raoh,\n'Thus saith the Lord,\" bold Moses said,\n\"If not, I'll smite your first-born dead.\"\nThe Lord told Moses what to do\nTo lead the children of Israel through.\nNo more in bondage shall they teil,\nLet them come out with Egypt's spoil.\n-JTff\n~Ci\n'Let my peo - pie go!'\n191 Traditional\nHeav\\Heav n\nNegro Spiritual\n^m\nm 0\nP iMf7\n0 0\ni\n1. I've got a robe,\n<-=\u2014\nyou've got a robe, All of God's children got a\nr F f f r ^\nJ J J> J\"\"3\u00ea\nrobe, When I get to Heav\nen Goin' to put on my robe,\nChorus: Nobody Knows de Trouble I See\nTraditional\nNegro Spiritual\n* Chorus:\n\u00dc^\n5=\u00a3\nm\nNo - bo - dy knows de trou - ble I see. No - bod - y knows but\nfrj-\u00abu 'JU^\nr>=\u00a3\n0 a\nJe - sus;\n(\nmm3\nNo - bo - dy knows de trou - ble I see,\nFine.*^ Solo:\n^e\nm\n33\nGlo - ry hal - le - lu - jah ! 1. Some - times I'm up, some\ni r~\n14WP\u2014i\nm\nm\u2014\u2014~\n H\nSI\t\n__ j\u2014j\nk^\u2014.\n1\u2014&-^ \u2022\u00bb\u2014\n=t\u2014-i 1 \u2014-\ntimes I'm down, Oh, yes, Lord; Some - times I'm al - most\n$\n^m\nto de groun'.\nOh, yes.\nD.C. A1 Fine\nLord.\n2. Altho' you see me goin' 'long so,\nI have my trials here below,\n193 Get on Board, Little Children\nTraditional Negro Spiritual\nij\/^J I J\u00bb (f * I? g (Tf J'^ If F (T \u00bfW J\n1. The Gos - pel train's a - com in', 4 hear it just at hand,\n$1\n^\nf E g ErtE f \/T P f. r ^^\nhear the car wheels rum-blhV An'\nChorus\nroll - in' thro' the land.\n$'\u00eer i-'- g~g f r ft r u. gg g r ^\nGit on board lit-tie chil - lin'Git on board lit - tie chil-lin Git on\n\u00a1\u00cd\u00c9\u00c9\ng g g r i7 ' ' -\u00bf\u2014\u00a3^^\nboard lit - tie chil - lin' There's room for ma - ny more.\n2. I hear the train's a-comin',\nShe's comin' 'round the curve,\nShe's loosened all her steam and brakes,\nAnd strainin' ev'ry nerve.\n3. The fart is cheap an' all can go.\nThe rich and poor are there.\nNo second class aboard this train,\nNo diff'rence in the fare.\n194 Little David Play on your Harp\nTraditional Negr0 Spiritual\ni\nChorus:\n^J J\u00bb J' | \u00a3\nw\nIE\n3t\nm\nLit - tie Dav - id, play on\nyour harp, Hal - le -\nharp, Hal - le - lu,\nLit-tie Dav - id, play on your\nf j. j i'N' n\nif jj j'J'\nharp, Hal - le - lu, ' Hal - le lu, Lit - tie Dav - id,. play on your\nSolo:\n^=i\n\u25a0hi? r\n:C\u00cb\nharp, Hal\nle - lu,\n1. Da - vid\nwas\na shep- herd\nD.C'.al Fine\nHe kill'd Go - li - ath and shout - ed for joy.\nJoshua was the son of Nun,\nHe never would quit till his work was done.\nThe trumpets of the Lord did blow,\nAnd down went the walls of Jericho.\nOh, Samson was a mighty man,\nHe was the strongest in the land.\n195. One More River\nTraditional\nSolo:\nTraditional\ni^Pf\nChorus:\n*\n\u00a3\n*\n1. Old No - ah once he built the Ark, There's one more ri - ver to\nSolo. Looms:\n\u00a3\n^\n^\ncross. And patched it up with hick-o-ry bark,There's one.more ri-ver to\nP\nm\n? m^~>\n^ \u00bf \/ j .H^^\ncross.\nOne more ri \u2022 ver,\nand that's the ri-ver. of Jor\ndan,\n%\n^^\nm\nOne more\nri\nver,\nTh\nere s one more ri\nver to cross.\n2. He went to work to load his stock,\nHe anchored the Ark with a great big rock,\n! 3. The animals went in one by one,\nThe elephant chewing a caraway bun,\n\u00a14. The animals went in two by two,\nThe rhinoceros and the kangaroo,\n5. The animals went in three by three,\nThe bear, the flea and the bumble bee,\n6. The animals went in four by four.\nOld Noah got mad and hollered for more,\n_7. The animals went in five by five,\nWith Saratoga trunks they did arrive,\n8. The animals went in sbx by six,\nThe hyena laughed at the monkey's tricks,\n9. The animals went in seven by seven,\nSaid the ant to the elephant, who're you shovjn',\n10. The animals went in eight by eight,\nThey came with a rush 'cause 'twas so late,\n11. The animals went in nine by nine,\nOld Noah shouted, \"Cut that liner\n12. The animals went in ten by ten,\nThe Ark she blew her whistle then,\n13. And then the voyage did begin.\nOld Noah pulled the gang-plank in,\n14. They never knew where they were at,\nTill the old Ark bumped on Ararat.\n196 Oh, de Deacon went down\nTraditional\nTraditional\n\u00cf\n} } i\n\u00cd\nW\n1. Oh, de Dea\ncon\nwent down (Oh, de Dea - con went down)\nf\ns\n1 >\u25a0 J>\n^\n^\nin de 'eel\nlar\nto pray\n(in de eel - lar to pray),\nfy \u00e9\" J\nra\n\u00cd F rVJ\u00bb J J J M F g P P\nt\nt\nHe fell a - sleep (he fell asleep) an' he stayed all day, (an'he stayed all day)\nChorus:\nb'fcfrAfc\np g ir (Tg r r i\n\u00ab\nOh, de Deacon went down in de eel - lai\nto pray,\nHe fell a\n|ft | j | | | | .\u20144L- | \u00c9 Jt |\nsleep an' he stayed all day,\n=ct\nI ain't\ngon\nna\ngrieve\nmy\nLord\nno more.\n2. I grieved my Lord from day to day,\nI left de straight and narrow way.\n3. Oh, de Devil is mad, and I am glad,\nHe lost a soul he thought he had.\n9. Dat's all dere is, an' dere ain't no more,\nLike Saint Peter said, when he shut de door.\n10. De re's one more thing, I forgot to tell,\nIf you don't go to Heaven, you'll go to Hell.\n4. Oh, you can't get to Heaven in a rocking chair,\n'Cause de Lord don't want no lazybones dere.\n5. An' you can't get to Heaven on a pair of skates,\n'Cause you roll right past dem pearly gates.\n6. An' you can't get to Heaven in a limousine,\n'Cause de Lord don't sell no gasoline.\n7. If you get to Heaven before I do,\nJust bore a hole an' pull me through.\n8. Oh, you can't get to Heaven with powder an' paint,\n'Cause it makes you look like what you ain't.\n197 Old Folks at Home\nStephen Foster\n(1826-1864)\nStephen. Foster\nFoster wasn't particlular which river be used in this song as long as it was in the South and fitted the melody.\nAfter looking through an atlas, be finally chose 'Swanee' after discarding first ' Yazoo' and then 'Pedee', thus\nimmortalizing a river be bad never seen.\n'Way down upon de Swanee ribber,\nFar, far away,\nDere's whar my heart is turning ebber,\nDere's whar de old folks stay.\nAll up and down de whole creation,\nSadly I roam,\nStill longing for de old plantation,\nAnd for de old folks at home.\nAll de world am sad and dreary,\nEbrywhere I roam,\nOh! darkies how my heart grows weary,\nFar from de old folks at home.\nAir round de little farm I wandered\nWhen I was young,\nDen many happy days I squandered,\nMany de songs I sung.\nWhen I was playing wid my brudder\nHappy was I. ,\nOh! take me to my kind old mudder,\nDere let me live and die.\nOne little hut among de bushes,\nOne dat I love,\nStill sadly to my mem'ry rushes,\nNo matter where I rove.\nWhen will I see de bees a-humming\nAll round de comb?\nWhen will I hear de banjo tumming\nDown in my good old home? Massa's in de Cold, Cold Ground\nStephen Foster\n(1826-1864)\nStephen Foster\nfe\nm\nr 7 a\n\u00ef=\n1. Round de mead - ows am a\nring\ning\nDe\ni\ni\ni lJ- I J \u00ab\u00d1^\nS\n1\ndark - ies' mourn - ful song,\nWhile de mock- ing bird am\n\u00a1\u00c9\u00cb\nm\n* j j i j.\n\u00a3\n*\nsing\nmg,\nHap\npy\nas de day am long.\nif\n\u25a0Hi\n\u00a3\nWhere de\n- vy\nam\ncreep\ning,\nfeffa_J^T~j\n5=\nm\n\u00ab^^\nO'er\nde gras - sy mound,\nDere ole mas - sa am a-\nM\nr * i p\n\u25a0\n^\n#^\n|p\nsleep - ing,\nSleep - ing in de cold, cold ground.\nm\n^\nmm\n\u00a3\n-\u00e9^\nDown\nin de corn - field,\nHear dat mourn-ful sound:\n\u00a3\n^\n*\nv\np^\nAll\nde dark - ies\nam\na - weep\nmg,\nPP\na\nMas - sa's in de\nWhen de autumn leaves were falling,\nWhen de days were cold,\nTwas hard to hear oie massa calling,\n'Cause he was so weak and old.\nNow de orange tree am blooming,\nOn de sandy shore,\nNow de summer days are coming,\nMassa nebber calls no more.\ncold,\n199\n_cr_\t\ncold ground.\nMassa make de darkies love him,\n'Cause he was so kind;\nNow dey sadly weep above him,\nMourning 'cause he leave dem behind.\nI cannot work before tomorrow,\n'Cause de tear-drop flow.\nI try to drive away my sorrow,\nPickin' on de ole banjo. H. C. Work\n(1832-1884)\nKingdom C\nomm\nH. C. Work\nWork, who also wrote \"Marching Through Georgia\", composed this during the Civil War. It is said that\nafter Lee's surrender, the negro troops marched into Richmond singing this song.\ntm\np\n\u00e1\n2=\nm\n1. Say dark - ies, hab you seen de mas - sa Wid de muff\u00ab stash on his\n$\n\u00a5\n=\u00a3\n*=>\nf r g. n g *m\nface.\nGo\n'long de road some time dis morn - in' Like he\nr~T~r e \\r\nJ*, i1 J'p ii^^\ngwine to leab de place? He seen a smoke way up de ribber,\nf\nWhar de Link - um,gum - boats lay,\nw\nm\nHe\ntook\nhis hat\nan\n\u00cd\nlef ber \u2022 ry sudden, An' 1\nChorus:\nspec' he's run\nway.\n$\nDe\n=3\nmas - sa run? Ha, ha! De dark.e y stay? Ho, ho! It mus'be now\n12:\n&\u00bb-\n?=P\nIf I f \u2022 \u00bb\nde King - dorn comin' An' de year ob Ju - bi - lo!\nHe six foot one way, two foot t'udder,\nAn' he weigh t'ree hundred pound.\nHis coaf s so big he couldn't pay de tailor.\nAn' it won't go half way round.\nHe drill so much dey call him Cap'n,\nAn' he get so drefful tann'd,\nI spect he try an' fool dem Yankees\nFor to t'ink he's contraband. 3. De darkies feel so lonesome libin'\nIn de log-house on de lawn,\nDey move der t'ings to massa's parlor\nFor to keep it while he's gone.\nDar's wine an' cider in de kitchen,\nAn* de darkies dey'll have some,\nI s'pose dey'll be confisticared\nWhen de Linkum sojers come.\nDe oberseer he make us trouble,\nAn' he dribe us round a spell;\nWe lock him up in de smoke-house cellar,\nWid de key t'rown down de well.\nDe whip is bst, de han'cuff broken,\nBut de massa'll hab to pay;\nHe's ole 'nough, big 'nough, ought to know better\nDan to went and run away.\nStephen Foster\n(1826-1864)\nOh, S\nusanna\n^Stephen Foster\nThe first song to establish Foster's reputation. Within a year after its publication, it became the marching\nsong of the forty-niners and the pioneers of the West. W: C. Peters gave Foster $100 for a group of songs\nincluding \"Oh, Suzanna', and later made $10,000 from this one alone. It was sung for the first time, it is\nthought, by minstrels at a song contest for the best sentimental so ng at Andrews Eagle Ice Cream Saloon\nin Pittsburg, September lltb, 1847.\n1. I come from Alabama wid my banjo on my knee;\nl'se g wine to Lou'siana, my true love for to see.\nIt rained all night de day I left, de wedder it was dry;\nDe sun so hot I froze to def, Susanna, don't you cry.\nChorus: Oh! Susanna, do'nt you cry for me;\nI come from Alabama wid a banjo on my knee.\n2. I had a dream de udder night, when ebryting was still;\nI thought I saw Susanna dear, a-comin' down de hill;\nDe buckwheat cake was in her mouf, d\u00e9 tear was in her eye,\nSays I \"I'se comin' from de souf, Susanna,don't you cry.\"\n3. I soon will be in New Orleans, an' den I'll look all 'round,\nAn' when I find Susanna I'll fall upon de ground.\nBut if I do not find her, dis darkey'll surely die,\nAn' when I'm dead and buried, Susanna,don't you cry. The Camptown Races\nStephen Foster\n(1826-1864)\nA few years after the publication of this nonsensical song, the town of Camptown, New Jersey, changed its\nname to Irvington, supposedly in self-defence because of the noteriety incurred.\nStephen Foster\nI\nSolo:\nChorus:\n3S\nSolo:\nm\u00bf\n*\n1. De Camp-town la - dies sing dis song, Doo - dah! doo - dah! De\nffe^=\u00ee)\nm\nt\nM\nChorus:\nP\nCamp-town race-track five miles long, Oh!\nHoto:\n7) * Ji j\nj!_j'\u00abhp \u00a1\ndoo - dah day!\nChorus:\nmjrm\ni s\nW.\nI come down dah wid my hat caved in, Doo-dah! doo-dah!\nSolo: , i ^ . *. Chorus:\nU1\nPF\nJ' |> i J>\nmm\n=\u00a3\u00eb\u00a3\n^P^\nI go back home wid a pock - et full of tin, Oh!\ndoo - dah\nrjfrj: T>j.\n?\u2022 g r r\nGwine to run all night! Gwine to run all day!\nI'll\nbet my mon-ey on de bob - tail\n2. De long-tail filly and de big black boss,\nDoo-dah! doo-dah!\nDey fly de track and dey both cut across,\nOh! doo-dah day!\nDe blind boss stick'n in a big mud hole,\nDoo-dah! doo-dah!\nCan't touch the bottom wid a ten-foot pole,\nOh! doo-dah day!\n3. Old muley cow come on to de track,\nDoo-dah! doo-dah!\nDe bob-tail fling her ober his back,\nOh! doo-dah day!\nDen fly along like a railroad car,\nDoo-dah! doo-dah!\nAnd run a race wid a shootin' star,\nOh! doo-dah day! 202\nnag, Some - bo-dy bet on de bay.\n4. See dem flyin' on a ten-mile heat,\nDoo-dah! doo-dah!\nRound de race track, den repeat,\nOh! doo-dah day!\nI win my money on de bob-tail nag,\nDoo-dah! doo-dah!\nI keep my money in an old tow-bag!\nOh! doo-dah day!\n- Oh, dem Golden Slippers\n1\nJames Bland\nJames Bland\nBland, the son of a former Virginia slave, was a fine singer and banjo player. Rejected as a minstrel because\nof his color, he turned to writing songs which were eagerly accepted by the same managers who had denied\nhim a place as a minstrel.\nP\n1\n\u00ca\n\u00cd\ni\nOh! dem Gold - en Slip - pers! Oh! dem Gold - en Slip - pers!\niff J1 ; J .J J\nh h h\nmmm\n0 0\nGold - en Slippers I'm gon - na wear be - cause dey look so neat.\nm\n0 J -^^\n^\nOh! dem Gold - en Slip - pers! Oh! dem Gold - en Slip - pers!\nm\nL^_4\u00b1M^-J,N' 7\u00bb\nGold - en Slip - pers I'm gon - na wear, to walk de gold - en street.\n203 Traditional\nSolo.-\nUil Liza Jane\nTraditional\nChorus:\ns K\nj j-i\/ f^L i r r >i p\nHon ey, will you be mah wife?\nSolo:.\nLi'l Li\nChorus:\nza Jane.\n' \u00bf J' jTT\"f |\u00bb i y j ^\nAh will love you all mah life.\nChorus:\nLi'l Li - za Jane.\nfir i* irr Vt\/nr >ir rn^Pi\n-, Li - za Li'l Li - za Jane, Oh - -, Li - zali'l Li za Jane,\nGW\n*****\n^05\n\u00ab V1\n<>*\n\u00bb,\n^^z\u00ab,\n\u2022*<>\n204 Short'nin* Bread\nTraditional\nTraditional\n4\nI\n\u00cd^P\niE\nm\n\u00ca\n\u00e9\nm\ntt^tt\n\u00bf=\u00b1\n1. Put on duh skil - let, put on duh led, Mammy's gon na bake a lit-tie\nJ J J'l f\n\u00e1\n3\n^\n\u00ca\nshort' - 'nin bread, Dat ain't al\nshe's a - gon - na do,\n\u00c9M\u00a1\nrj J* i1 i j> j, j i\nm?\nMam - my's gon - na make a lit\nChorus.\ntie\ncof - fee, too.\nIft-jj ; J-jLJl\u00fcp\np^\nMam - my's lit - tie Ba - by loves jjl short - 'nin'. short\nnin.\np\n^\n^Pf\n\u00ef\n*\nS\nMam my's lit - tie Ba - by loves\nshort\n'nin' bread.\n^7j r r j' ^ r i j r\u2014^^\nMam\nm\nmy's lit - tie Ba - by loves short - 'nin', short\n'nin',\n^\nm^\nf\ni\nshort\nMam - my's lit - tie Ba - by loves\nI. Fo' li'l darkies a- layin' in bed,\nThree wuz sick an' duh udder mos' dead!\nSent fo' duh doctor \u2014 duh doctor said,\n\"Feed dem darkies on short'nin' bread.\"\n3. Ah slips in duh kitchen, Ah lif up duh led,\nAh stuffs mah pockets full-a short'nin' bread.\nAh stole dat skillet, Ah stole dat led,\nAh stole duh gal to make short'nin' bread.\n4. Dey caught me wid duh skillet, dey caught me wid duh led,\nDey caught me wid duh gal, makin' short'nin' bread.\nPaid six dollahs fo' duh skillet, paid six dollahs fo' duh led,\nSpent six month's in jail, eatin' short'nin' bread.\n205\n\u2014w~~\nnin' bread\u00bb\nb .\nDarling Nelly Gray\nB. R. Hanby\nB. R. Hanby\nft\u00abj \/ir Q t * l\nMM\n1. There's a long green\nval\nley by the old Ken - tuck - y shore\nty11 p i r mm\n\u00e2\n^\nWhere we've whil'd ma - ny hap - py hours * - way;\nft m af^\/'J,\u00ed\nsit - ting and\nsing\ning by the lit - tie cot\n*\n\u00ab\ntage door Where\nChorus:\n\u00a3\n\u00a3\ndwelt\nmy love - ly Nel - ly Gray.\nOh! my\n^ J j J> \u00bf-f~}\n\u2022 \u00e9\nJ> i' J jit\npoor Nel - ly Gray, they have tak\nftp MM \u00bfB\nen you a - way, And I'l\n:\u00d6\nnev\ner see my dar - ling an - y more,\n\/yipfi. r\nI am sit - fing by the\nft* i \u00cf j \\* \u2022 f I\nriv \u2022 er and I'm\nweep - ing all the day,\nFor you're\nftf \/ f-t * J' J'1 \u00bf- i\ngOne from the old Ken - tuck - y shore.\n2. When the moon had climb'd the mountain and the stars\nwere shining too,\nThen I took my lovely Nelly Gray. 4. Oh! my eyes are getting blinded and\nAnd I travell'd down the river in my little red canoe I cannot see my way;\nWhile the banjo so sweetly I did play. Hark! there's somebody knocking at the door.\nI hear the angels calling and I see my NeUy Gray\nFarewell to my old Kentucky shore.\n3. Oh, one night I came to get her, but she's gone, the\nneighbours say,\nThe white man has bound her with his chain.\nThey have taken her to Georgia for to work her life away\nDown yonder in the cotton and the cane.\n206 Sones of the\nNorth \u00edw\nEn roulant ma Boule\nFrench-Canadian Folk Song\nFrench-Canadian Folk So\nWhen Samuel de Cbamplain made the first permanent settlement on the St. Lawrence at Quebec in \u00a1608\nalso founded the first \"Music Society\" in North America\u2014L'Ordre de le Bontemps\u2014to cheer the men of\ngarrison. These men sang the songs of old France and the voyageurs carried the songs with them as t\npaddled through the wilderness. \"En Roulant Ma Bo\u00fcle\" was one of the most popular of these song.\nipm\nm*\n^\nR=^>\n^\nP3S\n1. En rou - lant ma bou - le rou - lant.\nEn rou - lant ma\nF=*\n\u00a3\n3=5\nbou\nle.\nDer - rier' chez nous ya\nt'un 4 - tang,\nm\n-e*\nmg\nEn rou - lant ma bou\nle. Trois beaux can - ards s'\nen\nP\nJ I F M\nvont baig - nant, Rou - IL rou - lant, ma bou - le rou - lant.\n|\nfe\nP \u00eb J\nS=\u00ef\nr M ?\nEn rou - lant ma bou - le rou - lant, En rou - lant ma bou - 'e.\n2. Trois beaux canards s'en vont baignant.\nLe fils du roi s'en va chassant,\n3. Le fils du roi s'en va chassant,\nAvec son grand fusil d'argent,\n4. Avec son grand fusil d'argent,\nVisa le noir, tua le blanc,\n5. Visa le noir, tua le blanc.\nO fils du roi, tu es m\u00e9chant!\n6. O fils du roi, tu es m\u00e9chant!\nD'avoir tu\u00e9 mon canary blanc,\n7. D'avoir tu\u00e9 mon canary blanc,\nPar dessous l'aile il perd son sang,\n8. Par dessous l'aile il perd son sang,\nPar les yeux lui sort'nt des diamants\n9. Par les yeux lui sort'nt des diamants\nEt par le bec Cor et l'argent,\n10. Et par le bec l'or et l'argent,\nToutes ses plum's s'en vont au vent\n11. Toutes ses plum's s'en vont au vent,\nTrois dam's s'en vont les ramassant,\n12. Trois dam's s'en vont les ramassant,\nC'est pour en faire un lit de camp,\n13. C'est pour en faire un lit de camp,\nPour y coucher tous les passant!, '\n208 Un Canadien Errant\nNA. A. Gerin-LaJoie\nFrench-Canadian Chanson\nITA\u00ab revolts of 1837, led by Papineau and McKenzie, finally brought about the union of Upper and Lower\nCanada. However, the leaders and some of their followers were banished as a result of the rebellion. This\nsong, composed in 1838, expresses the feelings of those banished forever from the land they loved.\n> S S\n3\n\u00a3\nn?~\u2014\u00e7-\n1. Un Ca - na - dien er - rant,\nBan - ni de ses foy\nP\nt \u00bffir fi\ners,\n\u00dcn Ca - na - dien er - rant, Ban - ni de ses foy\nm\nw\nwm\ners,\nPar - cour - ait\ni\n^\nen pleur - ant,\nS Is =\nDes pa - ys\n#\ntran - gers.\nPar - cour - ait\nen\npleur\nwm\nant,\nDes pa\ny\u00ab\n\u00e9\ntran\ngers.\nUn jour, triste et pensif,\nAssis au bord des flots,\nAu courant fugitif,\nIl adressa ces mots.\n\"Si tu vois mon pays\nMon pays malheureux,\nVa, dis \u00e0 mes amis,\nQue je me souviens d'eux\n\"O jours si pleins d'appas,\nVous \u00eates disparus,\nEt ma patrie, h\u00e9las!\nJe ne te verrai plus!\n\"Plonge dans les malheurs\nLoin de mes chers parents\nJe passe dans, les pleurs,\nD'infortun\u00e9s moments.\n\"Non, mais en expirant,\nO mon cher Canada!\nMon regard languissant,\nVers toi se portera.\"\n209 '.\n:\nAlouette\nTraditional\nFrench-Canadian Folk Song\nCuriously enough, this is the only song which is popular and recognized as a Canadian song m every part of\nthe world A la claire Fontaine\nTraditional\nFrench-Canadian Chanson\nErnest Gagnon, in his \"Chansons Populaires du Canada,\" says: \"Depuis le petit enfant de sept\nans jusqrfau vieillard aux cheveux blancs, tout le monde en Canada sait et chante 'La Claire Fontaine'. On n'est pas Canadien sans cela\".\nm\nJ11 J' M' J\n*\nm\n\u25a0\u00bff m\nL\u00c0 la clai - re fon - tai - ne, M'en al - lant pro - me - ner,\n^\nm\nr \u00abm i j j m\nJ'ai trou - ve\nChorus:\nl'eau si bel - le, Que je m'y suis, baig - ne.\nLui ya long - temps que je t'ai- me, Ja - mais je ne t'oub-lier-ai.\nI. J'ai trouve l'eau si belle,\nQue je m'y suis baigne,\nSous les feuilles d'un ch\u00eane\nJe me suis fait s\u00e9cher.\n3. Sous le feuilles d'un ch\u00eane\nJe me suis fait s\u00e9cher,\nSur la plus haute branche\nLe rossignol chantait.\n4. Chante, rossignol chante,\nToi qui as le coeur gai; .\n5. Tu as le coeur a rire,\nMoi, je l'ai-t-\u00e0 pleurer.\n6. J'ai perdu ma ma\u00eetresse,\nSans l'avoir m\u00e9rit\u00e9.\n7. Pour un bouquet de roses,\nQue je lui refusai.\n8. Je voudrais que la rose\nFut encore au rosier.\nA.\n9. Et m.oi et ma ma\u00eetresse\nDans les m\u00eam's amiti\u00e9s. Vive la Canadienne\nTraditional\nFrench-Canadian Folk Song\n\u25a0ftl f 19\n\u25a0r flQgJ'f\n1. Vi-ve la Ca - na - dien - ne Vo - le, mon coeur, vo - le, Vi\nI\nm\nT\ns==v-\n3^3=\nm\nFine\nV \u00e9\n^m?\u00a3\nve la Ca - na - dien - ne, Et ses jo - lis yeux doux.\n$\n\u00e8\nt-' J1 p r i p r M' H' J r\n__\u25a0\u00bb f-ff||\nD.C.al Fine\nEt ses jo - lis yeux doux, doux, doux,Et ses jo - lis- yeux doux.\n2. Nous la menons aux noces.\nVole, mon coeur, vole,\nNous la menons aux noces,\nDans tous ses beaux atours.\n3. Nous faisons bonne ch\u00e8re,\nEt nous avons bon go\u00fbt.\n4. On danse avec nos blondes,\nNous changeons tour \u00e0 tour Malbrouck\nFrench-Canadian Folk Song\nFrench-Canadian Folk Song\nThis version\"appears in the McGill Students Song Book, but it is not the version sung in France or by most\nFrench Canadians. John Churchill, 1st Duke of Malb\u00f6rough, is one of the military geniuses of history. He\nserved for five years with the French against Holland and his exploits became legendary in the French\nranks. Later, as Commander of the English forces, he defeated Louis IV by a number of brilliant victories\nculminating with Malplaquet in \u00a1709. He did not, however, die on the battlefield as the song would suggest,\nbut was stricken with appoplexy at the age of 72.\nIM J JJJ J'i'l\nbrouck s'en va-1 - en guer - re, Mi-ron-ton, ton, ton.ton, Mi - ron-\nm\ntain\ne# Mal- brouck s'en va-t-en guer - re. Ne sait quand re-vien\nChorus:\n$j p-grujir f r r i\ni\n\u00ed\n\"er\ndra, l\u00e0 bas.\nCou - rez, cou - rez, cou - rez! Pe - ti - tes\nyr r r J,ii\nr t r t\nfill's jeunes et gen - til - les,\nCou\nrez.\ncou - rez, cou\nm\n^\n\u00a3\nwm\nrez! Ven - ez ce soir\n2. Il reviendra- z- \u00e0 Pasques,\nOu \u00e0 la Trinit\u00e9.\n3. La Trinit\u00e9 se passe,\nMarbrouck ne revient pas.\n4. Madame \u00e0 sa tour monte,\nSi haut qu'elle peut monter.\n5. Elle voit venir son page.\nTout de noir habill\u00e9.\n6. \"Beau page, ah! mon beau page,\nQuell' nouvelle apportez?\"\n7. Aux nouvelles que j'apporte,\nVos beaux yeux vont pleurer.\n8. Quittez vos habits roses,\nEt vos satins broch\u00e9s.\n9. \"Monsieur Malbrouck est mort,\nEst mort et enterr\u00e9.\"\nvous\nmus - er.\n213 Thomas Moore\nA Canadian Boat Song\nVoyageur's Song\nSung mostly by those voyageurs who made the Grande Portage by the Utojvas River. Sir Alexander McKenzie (\u00a1755-1820), in his account of the Fur Trade, says:'attherapids ofSt. Anne, they (the voyageurs)\nare obliged to take out a part, if not the whole of their lading. It is from this spot that Canadians consider?\nthey take their departure, as it possesses the last church on the Island which is dedicated to the tutelar Saint\nof Voyagers\".\n$^m\n1. Faint- ly as tolls the ev' - ning chime. Our voi-ces keep tune and our\niU!_.ii.\noars keep time. Our voi - ces keep tune and our oars keep time,\n\u00bb - . I \u00e9 , J. I i^Lg=^\n^ F F ^ r > I LT * J\n%\nSoon as the woods on shore look dim, We'll sing at St. Ann's our\nif r r r i ' r r J~ i\n\u00cfU3\npart - ing hymn! Row, broth - ers, row, the stream runs fast, The\nflfrj j. j\u00bb i * p i r r\n^m\nrap - ids are near and the\nday - light's past,\nThe\n|j.r J J', j*-* \u00bb f i r =^\\\nrap - ids\nare near and the\nday - light's\npast.\nWhy should we yet our sail unfurl?\nThere is not a breath the blue wave to curl,\nThere is not a breath the blue wave to curl.\nBut when the wind blows off the shore,\nOh sweetly we'll rest our weary oar.\nBlow, breezes, blow, the stream runs fast,\nThe rapids are near and the daylight's past.\nThe rapids are near and the daylight's past.\n3. Utawa's tide! this trembling moon\nShall see us float over thy surges soon,\nShall see us float over thy surges soon.\nSaint of this green isle, hear our prayers,\nGrant us cool heav'ns and fav'ring airs.\nBlow, breezes, blow, the stream runs fast,\nThe rapids are\u00bb near and the daylight's past,\nThe rapids are near and the daylight's past.\n214 f The Maple Leaf Forever\nAlexander Muir (1830-1906) Alexander Muir\nWritten and composed in 1867, the btrthdate of the Dominion. The maple leaf as a Canadian emblem is of\nFrench origin.\nm\n?\nf-t\u2014Z-\n32\n1. In days of yore, from Bri - tain's shore, Wolfe, the daunt-less\nmm\nm\nm?\n\u00a3\n\u2022 4\nx\u2014\/\nhe - ro came, And plant-ed firm Bri - tan - nia's flag, On\ndn\nn\nmi\nm\n*\u20144\n33\nCan - a - da's fair do - main. Here may it wave, our boast, our\n^H\ni\n0 [\u25a0 0\ntztzt\npride, And joined in love to - geth - er, The This-tie, Sham- rock,\n\u25a0\nm\n\u00a3\n\u00a3\n\u25a0\n\u00a3\nRose en - twine, The Ma - pie Leaf\nChorus :\nfor - ev - er.\na c oorus:\nEpTT~j~j~?' -f |.j. r J. -j>| j j J\n?-\nThe Ma - pie Leaf, our em - blem dear, The Ma - pie Leaf for\n-f\u00ed%-\n\u00ef\nI\nev - er!\nGod\nsave our King\n\u00cf\nj r i\nand Heav\nen bless\n\u00a3\n\u00bb\nF\nThe\nMa - pie Leaf\nFor\nev - er!\n2. At Queenston Heights and Lundy's Lane,\nOur brav\u00e9 fathers, side by side.\nFor freedom, homes, and loved ones dear,\nFirmly stood and nobly died;\nAnd those dear rights which they maintained,\nWe swear to yield them never!\nOur watch-word ever more shall be,\n\"The Maple Leaf forever!\"\n3. On merry England's far famed land.\nMay kind Heaven sweetly smile,\nGod bless Old Scotland evermore.\nAnd Ireland's em'rald isle!\nThen swell the song, both loud and long,\nTill rocks and forests quiver,\nGod save our King and Heaven bless\nThe Maple Leaf forever!\n215 R. Stanley W\u00e8ir\n(\u00ce856-1926)\nanada\nOriginally a hymn in honour of St. John the Baptist.\nCalixa Lavall\u00e9e\n(1842-1891)\nCa - na - da!\nCa - na - da!\nOur home, our na - tive land,\nfer re de nos . ai' - eux;\nTrue pa - triot love\nTon front est ceint\nin all thy sons com - mand,\nde fleu - rons glo - ri - eux!\nWith\nCar ton\nglow - ing hearts we\nbras sait por - ter l'\u00e1\nsee thee rise, The True North strong and\np\u00e9 - e, || sait por - ter la\nfree, And stand on guard, O Ca\nCroix! Ton his - toire est un e - po - pe\nda.\nP\nPS\u00ca\nstand on guard\nplus bril - lants\nfor thee,\nex - ploits.\nCa - na - da!\nta va - leur,\nrious and free!\nfoi trem - pe\ne.\nCa\nt\u00e9\nda! We stand on\nra nos foy - ers\nFIT'\nJIP jlp H\nP\nguard for thee,\net nos droits,.\nO Ca - na - da ! We stand on guard for thee.\nPro - te - ge - ra nos foy - ers et nos droits.\n216 \u00abis -\nGod Save the King\nTraditional\nTraditional\nThe origin of the melody is lost in antiquity. A n ancient version is said to have been sung at the\ncrowning of Charlemagne in 800 A.D. Its great popularity in England dates from 1745, the year\nof the second Jacobite rebellion led by Bonnie Prince Charlie, when it was used as the rallying\nsong of the House of Hanover. The origin of the words is also unknown, but a watchword of the\nNavy as early as 1545 was \"God save the King\", and to this the countersign was \"Long to reign\nover us\". The present poem is apparently a collection of familiar loyal phrases probably put together at a time of some national disturbance, such as the invasion of the Young Pretender.\nGod save our gracious King,\nLong live our noble King,\nGod save the King.\nSend him victorious,\nHappy and glorious,\nLong to reign over us,\nGod save the King.\n217 Heiden \/\u00a1\u00bf ^dl&i\nAbdul Abulbul Amir ; 64\nA Canadian Boat Sons: 214\nA Capital Ship , 164\nA Chequered Career 51\nAdi\u00f3s Muchachos 15\nA la Claire Fontaine 211\nAll\u00e1 en el Rancho Grande 148\nAll Through the Night 123\nAlma Mater 11\nAlouette * ,: : 210\nAmici .\u201e 49\nAnd When I Die 96\nAnnie Laurie ...T 106\nA-roving 158\nAsh Grove, Tbe ..' '.. 12a|\nAu Clair de la Lune 13fr\nAuld Lang: Syne Ill\nAupr\u00e8s de ma Blonde 131\nAy, Ay, Ay .:....:... : z. '. 149\nAy, Jalisco ,\u00bb.\u00ab, : 146'\n#\nBeehive, The , 61\nBendemeer*8 Stream \u00cd18\nBienenhaus, Das 140\nBig Rock Candy Mountain, The 172\nBlow the Man Down 16&\nBoots and Saddle 184\nBroken Ring, The 59\nBrothers, Circle 'Round in Chorus 90\nBr\u00fcder, Lagert Euch im Kreise \u00ab 142\nCamp Town Races ....: 202\nCasey Jones 174\nChevaliers de la Table Ronde ,*.! \u00ab* 136\nChisholm Trail, The 188\nCielito Lindo \u201e~ i. 146\nCockles and Mussels _*\u00bf\u00bb 115\nCome, Landlord, Fill the Flowing Bowl ......\u00bf......f 88\nComin' Thro' the Rye 107\nCrambambuli (English) 89\nCrambambuli (German) 14\u00bb*\nDarling- Nellie Grey \u00bb, 206\nDesperado, The \u00bb\u00bb ti 186\nDevil, The ;L\u00bf -\u2022. 98\nDown Among the Dead Men *.\u00bf _ 87\n218 'S\nINDEX OF TITLES-Continued\n\u25a0Down in the Valley 168\nIDrink to Me Only 78\nDrunken Sailor, The 163\nEarly One Morning 80\nEdite, Bibite (English) 91\niEdite, Bibite (German) 142\nEn Roulant Ma Boule 208\n'Farmer, The 92\n\u00a1Freshman's Dirge, The 15\nFuniculi Funicula 62\nGarryowen , \u00bf, 117\nGaudeamus Igitur ^, 48\nGet on Board, Little Children ,. 194\nGlen Whorple Hielanders, The 108\nGoat, The 70\nGo Down, Moses 191\n\u00cdGod Save the King 217\nGood Night, Ladies 82\nGreat Grandad 188\nGreen Grow the Rushes-Ho! 76\nGround Gopher's Hole, The 69\n\u00a1Hand Me Down My Walking Cane 97\nHallelujah, I'm a Bum 173\nHail U.B.C 8\nHeav'n, Heav'n 192\nHere's a Health Unto His Majesty 86\nHigh on Olympus 10\nHome on the Range *. 178\nIn the Caf 16\nI've, Been Wukkin' on the Railroad 176\nIl Etait un Petit Navire 134\nI've Got Sixpence 100\nI Wish I Were Single Again 66\nJe Tire Ma Reverence 133\nJohnny Fell Down the Bucket 71\nJohnny Verbeck 68\nJuanita 57\nKing of the Cannibal Islands, The 67\nKingdom Comin' 200\nLass of Richmond Hill, The 81\nLilli Bulero 116\nLili Marlene (English) 60\nLili Marlene (German) 141\nLi'l Liza Jane 204\nLincolnshire Poacher, The 79\n219 INDEX OF TITLES-Continued\nLittle David, Play on Your Harp 195\nLorelei, The (English) 58\nLorelei, Die (German) 139\nLoch Lomon' 104\nMacNamarra's Band 118\nMa Normandie 132\nMalbrouck (French) 135\nMalbrouck (French-Canadian) 213\nMaple Leaf Forever, The 215\nMarche Lorraine 129\nMarseillaise, La \u00ed 126\nMassa's in de Cold, Cold Ground 199\nMeerschaum Pipe, The 54\nMen of Harlech 120\nMichael Finnigan 73\nMinstrel Boy, The 112\nMonsieur, Vous Etes Jeune Homme 137\nMy Girl's a Hullabaloo 14\nNobody Knows the Trouble I See 193\nO Alte Burschenherrlichkeit 138\nO Canada 216\nOchi Chornye 155\nOh, Bury Me Not on the Lone Prairie 177\nOh, College Days 50\nOh, de Deacon Went Down 197\nOh, Dem Golden Slippers 203\nOh, Susannah 201\nOld King Cole 98\nOld Folks At Home 198\nOne More River 196\nOn Ilkla Moor Baht 'At ; 74\nProf's Song, The\n12\nQuilting Party, The 171\nRed River Valley, The 181\nRio Grande, The 159\nReuben and Rachel 169\nRiding Down from Bangor 52\nRosalie 55\nRose of Tralee, The 114\nRoad to the Isles, The 110\nSanta Lucia 152\nShort'nin' Bread 205\nShenandoah 160\nSpanish Cavalier, * The 56\nSon of a Gambolier, The 94\n220 INDEX OF TITLES-Contmued\nStenka Razin .- 154\nSur le Pont 128\nSwing Low, Sweet Chariot 190\nfTen Green Freshmen l ~ 13\nThere Is a Tavern in the Town 85\nToast to U.B.C 9\n;U.B.C. Toast 16\nUpidee _ 72\n*Jn Canadien Errant 209\n\u00a1Vive la Canadienne 212\njjVive l'Amour ... *84\nWait for the Wagon ..*,.\u201e, 170\nWaltzing Matilda ., 75\nWhen I Was a Student at Cadiz 58\nWhen Johnny Comes Down to Hilo 161\nWhoopee-ti-yi-yo 182\n\u00a1Wi' a Hundred Pipers an* a' 102\n;Ye Banks and Braes 105\n\u00a1Yellow Rose of Texas, The 180\nZerbrochene Ringlein, Das 140\nUnde\u0153, \u0153l tf-itet line\u00e9,\nA capital ship for an ocean trip 164\nAdi\u00f3s, muchachos 150\nA far croonin' is pullin' me away 110\nA la claire fontaine 211\nAll\u00e1 en el rancho grande 148\nAllons enfants de la patrie 126\nAima Mater, by thy dwelling 11\nAnd when I die 96\nAlouette, gentille alouette., _ 2IQ\nA poor little Freshman lay dying 15\nAs I was a-walking one morning for pleasure \u201e 182\nAs\u00f3mate a la ventana, Ay, Ay, Ay 149\nA Spanish cavalier stood in hts retreat 56\nAt number three, Old England Square 158\nA toast to him we all will drink _ 16\nAu clair de la lune 130\nAy, Jalisco, Jalisco...- _ 146\nBrothers, circle 'round in chorus 90\n221 INDEX OF FIRST LINES-Continued\nBr\u00fcder, lagert euch im Kreise 142\nBy yon bonnie banks and by yon bonnie braes 104\n\u00c7a, \u00c7a, geschmauset 142\nChevaliers de la table ronde 136\nCome all you rounders that want to hear 174\nCome join my humble ditty 94\nCome, Landlord, fill the flowing bowl 88\nComrades, gather 'round and join us 9\nCrambambuli das is der Titel | 143\nCrambambuli, that is the liquor 89\nDans le jardin d' mon p\u00e8re 131\nDe Camptown ladies sing dis song 202\nDown in the valley , 168\nDown yonder green valley..... 122\nDrink to me only 78\nEarly one morning 80\nEn passant par la Lorraine, 129\nEn roulant ma boule 208\nFaintly as tolls the evening chime 214\nFrom this valley they say you are going 181\nGaudeamus igitur 48\nGin a body meet a body comin thro' the Rye 107\nGod save oar gracious King 217\nGood night, ladies ., 82\nGreat Grandad, when the West was young 188\nHand me down my walking cane 97\nHark! I hear the foe advancng , 120\nHere's a health to the King - 87\nHere's a health unto His Majesty ., 86\nHere's to the President, come to see 12\nHigh on Olympus, where dwelt Athene 10\nHo, broder Teague, dost hear de decree 116\nHoney, will you be mah wife? t 204\nIch weiss nicht, was soll es bedeuten 139\n\/ come from Alabama wid a banjo on my knee 201\n\/ know not why, but my gladness 58\n\/\/ \u00e9tait un petit navire 134\nI'll sing you one, ho! 76\nI'm Pierre de Bonton de Paris 55\nIn days of yore 21 5\nIn Dublin's fair city 115\n\/ nebber see de like since I been born 161\nIn einem k\u00fchlen Grunde , 140\nIn the sky the bright stars glitter'd 171\nI've got d robe 192\nI've got sixpence , 100\n222 INDEX OF FIRST LINES\u2014Continued\nJe tire ma reverence 133\nfohnny fell down the bucket , 71\nLet Bacchus' sons be not dismayed 117\nLet ev'ry good fellow now fill up his glass 84\nLittle David, play on your harp 195\nLoud let the glasses clink 91\n\u25a0Malbrouck s'en va-t-en guerre (French) 1 135\n[Malbrouck s'en va-t-en guerre (French-Canadian) 213\nMaxwellton Braes are bonnie 106\nMein Her?, es ist ein Bienenhaus | 140\nMonsieur, vous \u00eates jeune homme 137\nMy girl's a hullabaloo 14\nMy heart is like a beehive 61\nMy name is MacN amarra 118\nNobody knows the trouble I see \u201e 193\nNow 'neath the silver moon 1 52\nNow, there was once a desperado 186\nO alte Burschenherrlichkeit 138\nO Canada - 216\nOchi chornye 155\nOh, blow the man down, bullies 162\nOh, bury me not on the lone prairie- 177\nOh, col'ege dayL oh, glorious days 50\nOh, de Deacon went down I\u00b07\nOh, dem golden slippers 203\nOh, give me a home 178\nOh, have you heard the story of late 67\nOh, I put my foot in the ground gopher's hole 69\nOh, I was bo'n in Mobile town 176\nOh, once I was single and then _ 66\nOh, say were you ever in Ri\u00f3 Grande? 159\nOh. Shenandoah, I long to hear you 160\nOh, who will smoke my meerschaum pipe? 54\nOh, why don't I work like other men do? 173\nOld King Cole was a merry old soul 98\nOld Noah, once he built the ark 196\nOn a summer day in the month of May '. 172\nOnce a joUy swagman sat beside a billabong 75\nOn Richmond Hill there lives a lass 81\nOur strong band can ne'er be broken 49\nPajaro que abondona su primer nido 145\nPut on duh skillet, put on dub ledt 205\nQuand tout renait a l'esp\u00e9rance 132\nReuben, Reuben, I've been thinking 169\n223 INDEX OF FIRST LINES-Continued\nRiding down from Bangor 5\n'Round de meadows am a-ringing 19\nSay, darkies, hab you seen, de Massa ~. 20\nShould auld acquaintance be forgot ., 11\nSleep, my love, and peace attend thee ~ - 12\nSoft o'er the fountain ; 5\nSome think the world is made for fun and frolic _ 6\n5\u00ab\/ Mare Luccica ... 15\nSur le pont d'Avignon 12i\nSwing low, sweet\" chariot _ 191\nTake me back to m'y boots and saddle - - 18\nTen green freshmen sitting on a wall 1\nThe Gospel train's a-coming 19\nThe Minstrel Boy to the war bas gone _ 11\nThe pale moon was rising above the green mountain 11\nThere is a tavern in the. town 8\nThere's a bower of roses by Bendemeer's Stream 11\nThere's a braw fine regiment as ilka mon should ken 10!\nThere's a long, green valley 20i\nThere's a yellow rose in Texas 181\nThere was a jolly, old farmer once 91\nThere was a little Dutchman 6!\nThere was a man, now please take note 71\nThere was an old man named Michael Finnigan 7:\nThere was cheese _ 1<\nThe shades of night were falling fast 71\nThe sons of the Prophet &\nUn Canadien errant '. _ 20*\nUnderneath the lantern, by the barrack gate 6(\nVive la Canadienne \u201e 21\u00cd\nVor der Kaserne, vor dem grossen Tor .1 141\n'Way down upon de Swanee Ribber 19i\nWell, come along, boys, and listen to my tale 18:\nWe wear the blue and gold of the victors \u201e | \u00ed\nWhat shall we do with the drunken sailor? 163\nWheear 'as tha bin sin' Ah saw thee? \u201e 74\nWhen I first was a civis I studied Humanity ; 51\nWhen Israel was in Egypt's land 191\nWhen I was a student at Cadiz'. 53\nWhen I was bound apprentice 79\nWhen you wander to the table free from care , 93\nWhere loud the mill-wheel roareth 59\nWhere the islands of the Volga 154\nWi' a hundred pipers an' a' \\ \u201e 102\nWill you come with nie, my Phyllis dear 170\nYe banks and braes o' bonnie Doon _ 105\ni\u00e0V\n224\nBB\u00fcl {\u25a0 -,\nli ","attrs":{"lang":"en","ns":"http:\/\/www.w3.org\/2009\/08\/skos-reference\/skos.html#note","classmap":"oc:AnnotationContainer"},"iri":"http:\/\/www.w3.org\/2009\/08\/skos-reference\/skos.html#note","explain":"Simple Knowledge Organisation System; Notes are used to provide information relating to SKOS concepts. 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