Allegro. SWEET LILIES OF THE VALLEY. O'er barren hills and flow'-ry dales, O'er seas and dis - tant shores, With mer ry song and jo-cund tales, I've pass'd some pleasant hours. Tho' wand'ring thus, I ne'er could find A girl like blithe-some Sal - ly, Who picks and culls, and cries a loud, Who picks and culls, and cries a loud, 'Sweet lilies of the val-ley,' 'Sweet lil-ies of the val-ley;' Who picks and culls, and cries a-loud, 'Sweet lil-ies of the val-ley.' From whistling o'er the harrow'd turf, From nesting from each tree, I chose a soldier's life to wed, So social, gay, and free; Yet, though the lasses love as well, And often try to rally, None pleases me like her who cries, 'Sweet lilies of the valley.' I'm now return'd, of late discharg'd, To use my native toil, From fighting in my country's cause, To plough my country's soil. I care not which, with either pleas'.l, So I posses my Sally, That little merry nymph that cries, 'Sweet lilies of the valley.' YOU ASK ME WHY THESE TEARS ARE FLOWING. Adagio. The Poetry by J. A. Wade; the Music by Steibelt. You ask me why these tears are flow-ing, So late re-turn'd to love and joy;- Or plants that, after night's cold sleeping, Have dew up-on their noon. day leaf! My life was dark,-was drear and lonely; Its brightest hours had faded long ; I had but one sad comfort only, Such comfort as the maniac's song! But peace, with light so new, returning, Illumines now my darken'd years; And joy but seems more purely burning, Reflected on my dropping tears! HOPE WITH HER RAINBOW. The Poetry by J. A. Wade; the Music by Sir J. Stevenson. Allegro Hope with her rain - bow beam-ing bright, Joy with his but-ter - fly wing, And mem-'ry ง dress'd in fa-ding light, Once met by a mountain spring!- Joy laid hold of the CHLOE'S TO BE MY WIFE. Published in Davidson's Cheap Edition of the Songs of the Ethiopian Serenaders. long as she hab life, So call me when de Ban-tam crows, And Chloe shall be my wife. So rouse me when de Ban-tam crows, And Chloe shall be my I'm sure I shall not sleep a wink And Joe shall bring him banjo dere, wife. So rouse me, &c. O! how poor Sam will tear him hair But if I nebber go to sleep, Why, I can nebber awake,- So rouse me, &c. |