With toys and painted fruit.

A blade of grass in a rocky cleft;
A single star to shine.

-Why should I sorrow if all be lost,
If only thou art mine?

Bright on the barren heath,

Still of that flower the Summer dreams, Not of his August wreath.

- Why should I sorrow if thou art mine, Love, beyond change and death?

If only once on a wintry day

The sun shines forth in the blue, He gladdens the groves till they laugh as in May

And dream of the touch of the dew. - Why should I sorrow if all be false, If only thou art true?

THE OLD MAID

SHE gave her life to love. She never knew What other women give their all to gain. Others were fickle. She was passing true. She gave pure love, and faith without a stain.

Hurry along, sorrow and song,
All is vanity 'neath the sun;
Velvet and rags, so the world wags,
Until the river no more shall run.

NANCY LEE

Of all the wives as e'er you know,
Yeo-ho! lads ho! Yeo-ho! Yeo-ho!
There's none like Nancy Lee, I trow,

Yeo-ho! lads ho! Yeo-ho!

See there she stands an' waves her hands upon the quay,

And ev'ry day when I'm away, she 'll watch for me,

An' whisper low, when tempests blow for Jack at Sea,

Yeo-ho! lads ho! Yeo-ho!

The sailor's wife the sailor's star shall

Waifs that drift to the shade or sun?

An'

Gone away with their songs and sorrow; Only the river still flows on.

Jack at sea,

Nancy's face to bless the place, an' welcome me ;

Yeo-ho! lads ho! Yeo-ho!

The boa's'n pipes the watch below,

Yeo-ho! lads ho! Yeo-ho! Yeo-ho! Then here's a health afore we go,

Yeo-ho! lads ho! Yeo-ho!

A long long life to my sweet wife and mates at sea;

An' keep our bones from Davy Jones where'er we be,

An' may you meet a mate as sweet as Nancy Lee;

Yeo-ho! lads ho! Yeo-ho!

The sailor's wife the sailor's star shall be,

Yeo-ho! we go across the sea;

The sailor's wife the sailor's star shall be,

The sailor's wife his star shall be.

A BIRD IN THE HAND

THERE were three young maids of Lee,
They were fair as fair can be,
And they had lovers three times three,
For they were fair as fair can be,
These three young maids of Lee.
But these young maids they cannot find
A lover each to suit her mind;
The plain-spoke lad is far too rough,
The rich young lord is not rich enough,
And one is too poor and one too tall,
And one just an inch too short for them all.
"Others pick and choose and why not we?"
"We can very well wait," said the maids
of Lee.

There were three young maids of
Lee,

They were fair as fair can be,
And they had lovers three times three,
For they were fair as fair can be,
These three young maids of Lee.

There are three old maids of Lee,
And they are old as old can be,
And one is deaf, and one cannot see,
And they all are cross as a gallows tree,
These three old maids of Lee.

Now if any one chanced- 't is a chance

remote

One single charm in these maids to note,
He need not a poet nor handsome be,
For one is deaf and one cannot see;
He need not woo on his bended knee,

For they all are willing as willing can be.

He may take the one, or the two, or the three,

If he 'll only take them away from Lee.
There are three old maids at Lee,
They are cross as cross can be,
And there they are, and there they'll be
To the end of the chapter one, two,
three,

These three old maids of Lee.

DOUGLAS GORDON

"Row me o'er the strait, Douglas Gordon, Row me o'er the strait, my love," said she, "Where we greeted in the summer, Douglas Gordon,

Beyond the little Kirk by the old, old
trysting tree.”

Never a word spoke Douglas Gordon,
But he looked into her eyes so tenderly,
And he set her at his side,
And away across the tide

They floated to the little Kirk,
And the old, old trysting tree.

"Give me a word of love, Douglas Gordon, Just a word of pity, O my love," said she, "For the bells will ring to-morrow, Douglas Gordon,

My wedding bells, my love, but not for you and me.

They told me you were false, Douglas
Gordon,

And you never came to comfort me!"
And she saw the great tears rise,
In her lover's silent eyes,

As they drifted to the little Kirk,
And the old, old, trysting tree.

"And it's never, never, never, Douglas Gordon,

Never in this world that you may come

DARBY AND JOAN

DARBY dear, we are old and gray,
Fifty years since our wedding day,
Shadow and sun for every one
As the years roll on ;

Darby dear, when the world went wry,
Hard and sorrowful then was I —
Ah! lad, how you cheered me then,
Things will be better, sweet wife, again !
Always the same, Darby my own,
Always the same to your old wife Joan.

Darby, dear, but my heart was wild
When we buried our baby child,
Until you whispered "Heav'n knows best!"
And my heart found rest;

Darby, dear, 't was your loving hand
Showed the way to the better land
Ah! lad, as you kiss'd each tear,
Life grew better, and Heaven more near
Always the same, Darby my own,
Always the same to your old wife Joan.

Hand in hand when our life was May,
Hand in hand when our hair is gray,
Shadow and sun for every one,
As the years roll on ;

Hand in hand when the long night-tide
Gently covers us side by side-
Ah! lad, though we know not when,
Love will be with us forever then :
Always the same, Darby, my own,
Always the same to your old wife Joan.