Ballads & Songs of Lancashire: Chiefly Older Than the 19th Century

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John Harland
Whittaker & Company, 1865 - 281 pages
 

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Page 241 - With quietness and beauty, and so feed With lofty thoughts, that neither evil tongues, Rash judgments, nor the sneers of selfish men, Nor greetings where no kindness is, nor all The dreary intercourse of daily life, Shall e'er prevail against us, or disturb Our cheerful faith, that all which we behold Is full of blessings.
Page 171 - I AM content, I do not care, Wag as it will the world for me; When fuss and fret was all my fare, It got no ground as I could see : So when away my caring went, I counted cost, and was content. With more of thanks and less of thought, I strive to make my matters meet ; To seek what ancient sages sought, Physic and food in sour and sweet: To take what passes in good part, And keep the hiccups from the heart.
Page 90 - Come listen to my mournful tale, Ye tender hearts and lovers dear ; Nor will you scorn to heave a sigh, Nor need you blush to shed a tear. And thou, dear Kitty, peerless maid, Do thou a pensive ear incline ; For thou canst weep at every woe, And pity every plaint — but mine. Young Dawson was a gallant...
Page 93 - And ravish'd was that constant heart, She did to every heart prefer; For though it could its king forget, 'Twas true and loyal still to her. Amid...
Page 66 - I was so good-humoured, so cheerful and gay, My heart was as light as a feather all day : But now I so cross, and so peevish am grown, So strangely uneasy, as never was known. My fair one is gone, and my joys are all...
Page 9 - THERE was an old man, who lived in a wood, As you may plainly see ; He said he could do as much work in a day, As his wife could do in three. With all my heart, the old woman said, If that you will allow, To-morrow you'll stay at home in my stead, And I'll go drive the plough. But you must milk the Tidy cow, For fear that she go dry ; And you must feed the little pigs, That are within the sty ; And you must mind the speckled hen, For fear she lay away ; And you must reel the spool of yarn, That I...
Page 129 - The life of man is but a span, It flourishes like a flower; We are here to-day, and gone to-morrow, And are dead in an hour. The moon shines bright, and the stars give a light, A little before it is day, So God bless you all, both great and small, And send you a joyful May.
Page 129 - A branch of May we have brought you, And at your door it stands, It is but a sprout, but it's well budded out By the work of our Lord's hands.
Page 145 - HOME'S not merely four square walls, Though with pictures hung and gilded ; Home is where affection calls, — Fill'd with shrines the heart hath builded ! Home ! — go watch the faithful dove, Sailing 'neath the heaven above us ; Home is where there's one to love ; Home is where there 's one to love us...
Page 66 - My dog I was ever well pleased to see Come wagging his tail to my Fair One and me; And Phebe was pleased too, and to my dog said, 'Come hither, poor fellow,' and patted his head. . But now, when he's fawning, I with a sour look, Cry. 'Sirrah!

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