| First Line |
Page |
Verses |
| Ye sons of Columbia, unite in the cause |
3-4 |
5 |
| Hail Columbia, happy land |
4-6 |
4 |
| Come, hail the day, ye sons of mirth |
5-8 |
8 |
| Sing Yankee Doodle, that fine tune |
8-10 |
14 |
| When Britain with despotic sway |
10-12 |
6 |
| Fair liberty! whom heaven gave |
12 |
2 |
| Soldier, a soldier, a soldier for me, A |
13-14 |
3 |
| Come, come, my brethren dear |
14 |
2 |
| Guardian of our nation, stand firm in your station |
15 |
6 |
| Poets may sing of their Helicon streams |
16-17 |
6 |
| God save the United States |
17-18 |
5 |
| From th' soil our fathers dearly bot,' [sic] |
19-20 |
5 |
| To the standard repair |
20-21 |
6 |
| Columbia's Bald Eagle displays in his claws |
21-22 |
3 |
| To Columbia, who gladly reclin'd at her ease |
22-24 |
5 |
| Come all grenadiers let us join hand in hand |
25-26 |
3 |
| Time has not th'nn'd my flowing hair [sic] |
26 |
2 |
| When Freedom, fair Freedom her banner display'd |
27-29 |
6 |
| Come all ye jolly sailors bold |
29-30 |
4 |
| American frigate from Baltimore came, An |
30-32 |
8 |
| Fly ye traitors from our land |
32-34 |
4 |
| How blest the life a sailor leads |
34-35 |
3 |
| When our great sires this land explor'd |
35-36 |
|
| Come, care curing mirth |
37-38 |
10 |
| How bright are the joys of the table |
39-40 |
4 |
| My mother says, I'm now sixteen |
40-41 |
6 |
| Flaxen-headed cow-boy as simple as may be, A |
41-42 |
4 |
| In storms, when clouds obscure the sky |
42-43 |
5 |
| Rose tree in full bearing, A |
43-44 |
6 |
| How stands the glass around? |
44-45 |
3 |
| Come all you pretty maidens, some older some younger |
46-47 |
5 |
| Wealthy fool with gold in store, The |
47-48 |
3 |
| Lord, what care I for mam, or dad? |
48 |
5 |
| No pastime, no sport can with hunting compare |
49 |
3 |
| When Jove was resolv'd to create the round earth |
49-50 |
6 |
| Sir Solomon Simons, when he did wed |
51-52 |
7 |
| Dear Kathleen you no doubt |
53 |
3 |
| Woman is like to--but stay--, A |
54-55 |
|
| Man, he is like to--but stay--, A |
55-57 |
7 |
| Some women take delight in dress |
57-58 |
4 |
| How imperfect is expression |
58-59 |
3 |
| For various purpose serves the fan |
59 |
2 |
| Jolly mortals fill your glasses |
60 |
3 |
| From night till morn I take my glass |
60 |
2 |
| Hark! Echo! sweet Echo repeats the loud strain |
61 |
2 |
| Let a set of sober asses |
61-62 |
7 |
| Sailor's life, a life of woe, A |
63-64 |
3 |
| Attention pray give, while of hobbies I sing |
65-66 |
7 |
| When fortune doth frown |
67-68 |
8 |
| Ye fair, possess'd of ev'ry charm |
68-69 |
3 |
| 'Twas near a thicket's calm retreat |
69-70 |
3 |
| Plague of those musty old lubbers, A |
70-71 |
4 |
| Returning home, across the plain |
72 |
3 |
| Fair Kate of Portsmouth lov'd a tar |
73-74 |
5 |
| Night scarce her mantle had withdrew |
74 |
3 |
| This world is a stage |
75-78 |
15 |
| Distress me with those tears no more |
78 |
3 |
| Tho' prudence may press me |
79 |
2 |
| How happy the woman, whose charms |
79 |
3 |
| Bright God of Day, drew westward away, The |
80 |
5 |
| Beautious sterling late I saw, A [sic] |
81-82 |
8 |
| Trust not man for he'll deceive you |
82 |
3 |
| Trust not woman, she'll beguile you |
82-83 |
3 |
| Oh, Cupid forever |
83-84 |
5 |
| Her mouth with a smile |
84 |
2 |
| When I had scarcely told sixteen |
85 |
3 |
| Here, a sheer hulk, lies poor Tom Bowling |
86 |
3 |
| Welcome, welcome, brother debtor |
87-88 |
4 |
| Sweet nightingale, best poet of the grove |
88 |
|
| No more I'll court the town bred fair |
88-89 |
5 |
| When one's drunk not a girl but looks pretty |
89-90 |
4 |
| Roving about, good fellows to meet |
90-91 |
6 |
| Bright Phoebus has mounted the chariot of day |
91-92 |
3 |
| Ye youths, wheresoever ye wander so free |
92-93 |
3 |
| Chloe, by that borrow'd kiss |
93-94 |
2 |
| Such a Tom-boy before I had enter'd my teens |
94-95 |
3 |
| Of Columbias boast the praise be mine [sic] |
95-96 |
5 |
| Go patter to lubbers and swabs, d' ye see |
97-98 |
12 |
| I that once was a ploughman, a sailor am now |
99-100 |
4 |
| Behold this fair goblet--'twas carv'd from the tree |
101-102 |
8 |
| Dear Tom this brown jug, which foams with mild ale |
103 |
3 |
| Say, have you seen my Arabell? |
103-104 |
3 |
| As musing I rang'd in the meads all alone |
104-105 |
5 |
| When up to London first I came |
105-106 |
3 |
| On that lone bank where Lubin died |
106 |
4 |
| Sails unfurl'd, the ship unmoor'd, The |
107 |
4 |
| Adieu, ye streams that smoothly flow |
107-108 |
8 |
| Eve her silver vestment wore, The |
109 |
4 |
| Alas!, they've torn my love away |
110 |
3 |
| There was once, it was said, when, is out of my head |
111-114 |
18 |
| Tuneful lavrocks cheer the grove, The |
114 |
3 |
| Gallants attend, and hear a friend |
115-118 |
22 |
| At the sound of the horn |
118-119 |
4 |
| Go tuneful bird, that glads the skies |
119 |
4 |
| When spring returning decks the groves in glittering array |
120 |
3 |
| For Balt'more, when, with fav'ring gale |
121 |
3 |
| Sweet rosy morning, The |
121-122 |
3 |
| How poor is the man, tho' he wealth would possess |
122 |
2 |
| Come, my Sylvia! come and bless |
123 |
4 |
| I've found my fair, a true love knot |
123-124 |
3 |
| When bending o'er the lofty yard |
124-125 |
3 |
| Come, pretty Poll, thy tears refain |
125-126 |
3 |
| Now Henry has left me to plough the salt sea |
126-127 |
3 |
| Western sky was purpl'd o'er, The |
127 |
3 |
| 'Twas past meridian, half past four [sic] |
126-129 |
12 |
| Cease, rude Boreas, boisterous railer |
129-132 |
17 |
| Come, courage lads, and drink away |
132 |
2 |
| O you, whose lives on land are pass'd |
133 |
3 |
| Sweet nightingale! queen of the spray |
133 |
2 |
| Tho' I am now a very little lad |
134 |
3 |
| Not long ago how blithe was I! |
135-136 |
4 |
| Return ye raptur'd hours |
136 |
4 |
| Come each gallant lad |
136-137 |
6 |
| Oh! think on my fate! once I freedom enjoy'd |
137-138 |
3 |
| I'm jolly Dick the lamplighter |
138-139 |
4 |
| My friends all declare that my time is mispent |
140 |
4 |
| Bottle is a very good thing, A |
140-141 |
2 |
| When the trees are all bare, not a leaf to be seen |
141-142 |
4 |
| We soldiers drink, we soldiers sing |
142-143 |
4 |
| Bold Jack, the sailor, here he comes [sic] |
143-144 |
5 |
| Green were the fields where my forefathers dwelt, O |
145-147 |
6 |
| Oh why should weak deluded man |
147-148 |
4 |
| Brave countrymen, both great and small |
148-149 |
4 |
| Hibernia's sSons, the patriot band |
150 |
3 |
| Assembled in our country's cause |
151-152 |
8 |
| In what history can you find |
152-153 |
4 |
| Forc'd from home, and all its pleasures |
153-154 |
5 |
| Go on, brave Prince, increase your debts |
155-156 |
5 |
| Grand juries those time-serving knaves |
157-158 |
8 |
| Ye vile swinish herd, in the sty of taxation |
158-160 |
7 |
| Good people I pray you attend to me |
160-161 |
3 |
| Gallant nation foes no more |
161-162 |
6 |
| Arrah! Paddy, dear boy, my heart and my joy |
162-164 |
4 |
| Sons of Bacchus lets be gay |
164 |
2 |
| Now Hibernians bold and brave |
165 |
4 |
| Hibernia's sons, with hearts elate |
166-167 |
4 |
| Hail! undaunted Hibernians true offspring of light |
167-168 |
4 |
| My name is Freedom, new come o'er |
169-170 |
4 |
| On a brook's grassy brink, in the willow's cool shade |
170-172 |
10 |
| Come, Chloe, and give me sweet kisses |
172-173 |
3 |
| Brimful of anger---not of love |
173 |
|
| When Fanny, blooming fair |
174 |
|
| To make the man kind, and keep true to your bed |
175-176 |
6 |
| Ye fam'd physicians of this place |
176-177 |
4 |
| Brides, in all countries, have been reckon'd |
177-178 |
|
| One day at her toilet, as Venus began |
178-179 |
4 |
| That which her slender waist confin'd |
179-180 |
3 |
| Ye belles, and ye flirts, and ye pert little things |
180-181 |
4 |
| Bright Cynthia's power, divinely great |
181 |
2 |
| As pensive on the Severn's side |
[182] |
4 |
| Beneath a weaping willow's shade [sic] |
[183] |
4 |
| In infancy I knew a spot |
[184-185] |
4 |
| Brim full of love fat Lydy sat [sic] |
[185] |
4 |
| Long time I've enjoy'd the soft transports of love |
[186] |
3 |
| Disguis'd last night, I rush'd from home |
187-188 |
7 |
| Thomas came running to the mill |
188-189 |
|
| Night her silent sable wore, The |
189-191 |
10 |
| Here in the bower of beauty, newly shorn |
191 |
|
| To Celia thus fond Damon said |
192 |
4 |
| Some love to range, so fond of change |
192-193 |
6 |
| Ye sons of Anacreon, assist me to sing |
193-194 |
4 |
| Why, Chloe, thus squander your prime |
195 |
3 |
| Celia! you kill me, by the lord! |
195-196 |
6 |
| Be quiet, sir! be gone, I say! |
196 |
|
| As one bright summer's sultry day |
197-198 |
5 |
| Come, Cythera, with thy doves |
198-200 |
10 |
| As Lydia on a bank reclining lay |
201 |
|
| Return'd from the op'ra, as lately I sat |
201 |
|
| |
202-204 |
18 |
| Ye delicate lovelies, with leave, I maintain |
205-206 |
9 |
| Whenever, Chloe, I begin |
206-207 |
|
| Lovely Lydia! lovely maid! |
207-20 |
|