THE

NEW-ENGLAND

POCKET

SONGSTER;

A CHOICE COLLECTION OF

POPULAR SONGS,

NEW AND OLD.

Claremont, N. 2.

1846.

HARVARD UNIVERSITY LIBRARY

1436.

CONTENTS.

191

A boat danc'd on Clyde's bonny stream

A Chieftain, to the Highlands bound

Adieu, adieu, my only life

Ah! what is the bosom's commotion

A little cock sparrow sat up in a tree

A mason's daughter, fair and young

An Indian girl was sitting where

A rose-tree in full bearing

As the sun climbs o'er the hills

As slow our ship her foamy track

As I walked out one evening fair

A soldier's the lad I adore

As walking forth to view the plain

A tailor I once was, as blithe, &c.

Blow high, blow low, let trumpets, &c.

Bright chanticleer proclaims the dawn

But are you sure the news is true?

Cease, rude Boreas, blust'ring railer

Columbian tars are hearts of oak

Come, come, bonnie lassie, &c.

Come, strike the bold anthem, &c.

Come, tell me, blue-eyed stranger

Come hither, thou beautiful rover

Come, each gallant lad

29

39

42

53

93

154

Come, rest in this bosom, &c.

Could this ill warld hae been contriv'd

Days of absence, sad and dreary

Dear John, prithee tell me,' cried Ruth.

Deserted by the waning moon

Diogenes, surly and proud

Down in yon village I live so snug

Encompass'd in an angel's frame

Fall'n is thy throne, O Israel!

Fly to the desert, fly with me

For England, when, with fav'ring gale

Friendship to every willing mind

Giles Scroggins courted Molly Brown

Gloomy, winter's now awa'

Go where glory waits thee

Good night, good night, my dearest

. 116
115

51

41

91

77

124

Have you not seen the Scotchman's wallet 24

Hail Columbia! happy land!

43

97

82

Hail to the chief, who in triumph advances 50

Hail! ye sighing sons of sorrow

Hark! the vesper hymn is stealing.

Here, a sheer hulk, lies poor Tom Bowling

Here's the bower she lov'd so much

Here's a health to them that's awa'

He comes from the wars, &c.

How stands the glass around?

How blest the life a sailor leads

How happy lives the rural clown

I'd be a butterfly, born in a bower

If a body meet a body

38

78

99

. 160

55

84

If a body meet a body comin' thro' the rye 116

I'll pull a bunch of buds and flow'rs

145

In a chariot of light from the regions, &c. 89

I remember, 1 remember

I sing the Maid of Lodi

It oft-times has been told

122

12

36

59

John Anderson, my Jo, John'

Joy to the victors! the sons of old Aspen! 19

Judy leads me such a life! .

Lady, throw back thy raven hair

Lassie wi' the lint-white locks

Let the farmer praise his grounds

Let him who sighs in sadness, &c.

Life let us cherish

Light as thistle down moving, &c.

Little wat ye wha's coming

Loud roared the dreadful thunder

143

. 134

. 155

€ 108

67

46

24

73

67

85

Merrily every bosom boundeth

Mister Po was a man of great learning,
My heart is sair, I dare na tell
My seventeenth year scarce over
My heart with love is beating

No breeze was on the mirror wave

Not a drum was heard, nor, &c.

Now the rage of battle ended

Now we're all met here together

Now is it not a pity such a pretty girl as I 101

Oh! cruel were my parents

Oh! cease to upbraid, while I seek, &c.

Oh, say not woman's love is bought

Oh, years have flown since first we met

O how can I be blithe and glad

O Lady twine no wreath for me

O lassie art thou sleeping yet

146