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Posts Tagged ‘anonymous’

Let others cheer the winning man,
There’s one I hold worth while;
‘Tis he who does the best he can
Then loses with a smile.
Beaten he is, but not to stay
Down with the rank and file;
That man will some other day,
Who loses with a smile.

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Matthew, Mark, Luke and John
Bless the bed that I lie on!
Four corners to my bed,
Four angels round my head,
One at head and one at feet,
And two to guard my soul asleep.

 

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Peace! Be still!
In this night of sorrow bow,
O my heart! Contend not thou!
What befalls thee is God’s will –
Peace! Be still!

Peace! Be still!
All thy murmuring words are vain –
God will make the riddle plain,
Wait His word and bear His will –
Peace! Be still!

Hold thou still!
Though the good Physician’s knife
Seems to touch thy very life,
Death alone He means to kill, –
Hold thou still!

Shepherd mine!
From Thy fullness give me still
Faith to do and hear Thy will,
Till the morning light shall shine,
Shepherd mine!

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A traveler once, when skies were rose and gold
With Syrian sunset, paused beside the fold
Where an Arabian shepherd housed his flock,
Only a circling wall of rough, grey rock –
No door, no gate, but just an opening wide
Enough for snowy, huddling sheep to come inside.
“So,” questioned he, “then no wild beasts you dread?”
“Ah, yes, the wolf is near,” the shepherd said.
“But” – strange and sweet the word Divine of yore
Fell on his startled ear: “I am the door!
When skies are sown with stars, and I may trace
The velvet shadows in this narrow space,
I lay me down. No silly sheep may go
Without the fold but I, the shepherd, know.
Nor need my cherished flock close-sheltered, warm,
Fear ravening wolf, save o’er my prostrate form.”
O word of Christ – illumined evermore
For us his timid sheep – “I am the door!

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” Slack your rope, hangs-a-man,
O slack it for a while;
I think I see my father coming,
Riding many a mile. ”
” O father, have you brought me gold?
Or have you paid my fee?
Or have you come to see me hanging
On the gallows-tree? ”
” I have not brought you gold;
I have not paid your fee;
But I have come to see you hanging
On the gallows-tree. ”

” Slack your rope, hangs-a-man,
O slack it for a while;
I think I see my mother coming,
Riding many a mile. ”
” O mother, have you brought me gold?
Or have you paid my fee?
Or have you come to see me hanging
On the gallows-tree? ”
” I have not brought you gold;
I have not paid your fee;
But I have come to see you hanging
On the gallows-tree. ”
(And so on for brother, sister, aunt, uncle, cousin, etc.)

” Slack your rope, hangs-a-man,
O slack it for a while;
I think I see my true-love coming
Riding many a mile. ”
” O true-love, have you brought me gold?
Or have you paid my fee?
Or have you come to see me hanging
On the gallows-tree? ”
” Yes, I have brought you gold;
Yes, I have paid your fee;
Nor have I come to see you hanging
On the gallows-tree. ”

———————————————————

song (4:07) https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=M2YzDPL_osg

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The king sits in Dunfermline town,
Drinking the blude-red wine o:
‘O whare will I get a skeely skipper
To sail this new ship of mine o?’

O up and spake an eldern-knight,
Sat at the king’s right knee:
‘Sir Patrick Spens is the best sailor
That ever saild the sea.’

Our king has written a braid letter,
And seald it with his hand,
And sent it to Sir Patrick Spens,
Was walking on the strand.

‘To Noroway, to Noroway,
To Noroway oer the faem;
The king’s daughter of Noroway,
‘Tis thou maun bring her hame.’

The first word that Sir Patrick read,
Sae loud, loud laughed he;
The neist word that Sir Patrick read,
The tear blinded his ee.

‘O wha is this has done this deed,
And tauld the king o me,
To send us out, at this time of the year,
To sail upon the sea?’

‘Be it wind, be it weet, be it hall, be it sleet,
Our ship must sail the faem;
The king’s daughter of Noroway,
‘Tis we must fetch her hame.’

They hoysed their sails on Monenday morn,
Wi’ a’ the speed they may;
They hae landed in Noroway,
Upon a Wodensday.

They hadna been a week, a week
In Noroway but twae,
When that the lords o Noroway
Began aloud to say:

‘Ye Scottishmen spend a’ our king’s goud,
And a’ our queenis fee.’
‘Ye lie, ye lie, ye liars loud!
Fu’ loud I hear ye lie!

‘For I brought as much white monie
As gane my men and me,
And I brought a half-fou’ o’ gude red goud,
Out o’er the sea wi’ me.

‘Make ready, make ready, my merry-men a’!
Our gude ship sails the morn.’
‘Now ever alake, my master dear,
I fear a deadly storm!

I saw the new moon, late yestreen,
Wi’ the auld moon in her arm;
And if we gang to sea, master,
I fear we’ll come to harm.’

They hadna sail’d a league, a league,
A league but barely three,
When the lift grew dark, and the wind blew loud,
And gurly grew the sea.

The ankers brak, and the top-masts lap,
It was sic a deadly storm;
And the waves cam o’er the broken ship,
Till a’ her sides were torn.

‘O where will I get a gude sailor,
To take my helm in hand,
Till I get up to the tall top-mast;
To see if I can spy land?’

‘O here am I, a sailor gude,
To take the helm in hand,
Till you go up to the tall top-mast
But I fear you’ll ne’er spy land.’

He hadna gane a step, a step,
A step but barely ane,
When a bout flew out of our goodly ship,
And the salt sea it came in.

‘Gae, fetch a web o’ the silken claith,
Another o’ the twine,
And wap them into our ship’s side,
And let na the sea come in.’

They fetchd a web o the silken claith,
Another o the twine,
And they wapped them roun that gude ship’s side
But still the sea came in.

O laith, laith, were our gude Scots lords
To weet their cork-heel’d shoon!
But lang or a the play was play’d
They wat their hats aboon,

And mony was the feather-bed
That fluttered on the faem,
And mony was the gude lord’s son
That never mair cam hame.

The ladyes wrang their fingers white,
The maidens tore their hair,
A’ for the sake of their true loves,
For them they’ll see na mair.

O lang, lang may the ladyes sit,
Wi’ their fans into their hand,
Before they see Sir Patrick Spens
Come sailing to the strand!

And lang, lang may the maidens sit,
Wi’ their goud kaims in their hair,
A’ waiting for their ain dear loves!
For them they’ll see na mair.

O forty miles off Aberdeen,
‘Tis fifty fathoms deep,
And there lies gude Sir Patrick Spens,
Wi’ the Scots lords at his feet.

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jesse james


Jesse James was a lad who killed many a man.
He robbed the Glendale train.
He stole from the rich and he gave to the poor,
He’d a hand and a heart and a brain.

Jesse had a wife to mourn for his life,
Three children, they were brave,
But that dirty little coward that shot Mister Howard,
Has laid Jesse James in his grave.

It was Robert Ford, that dirty little coward,
I wonder how he does feel,
For he ate of Jesse’s bread and he slept in Jesse’s
bed,
Then he laid Jesse James in his grave.

Jesse was a man, a friend to the poor,
He’d never see a man suffer pain,
And with his brother Frank he robbed the Chicago
bank,
And stopped the Glendale train.

It was on a Wednesday night, the moon was shining
bright,

He stopped the Glendale train,
And the people all did say for many miles away,
It was robbed by Frank and Jesse James.

It was on a Saturday night, Jesse was at home,
Talking to his family brave,
Robert Ford came along like a thief in the night,
And laid Jesse James in his grave.

The people held their breath when they heard of
Jesse’s death,

And wondered how he ever came to die,
It was one of the gang called little Robert Ford,
That shot Jesse James on the sly.

Jesse went to his rest with his hand on his
breast,

The devil will be upon his knee,
He was born one day in the county of Clay
And he came from a solitary race.

This song was made by Billy Gashade,
As soon as the news did arrive,
He said there was no man with the law in his hand
Could take Jesse James when alive. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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This is the House that Jack built.

This is the Malt,
That lay in the House that Jack built.

This is the Rat,
That ate the Malt,
That lay in the House that Jack built.

This is the Cat,
That killed the Rat,
That ate the Malt,
That lay in the House that Jack built.

This is the Dog,
That worried the Cat,
That killed the Rat,
That ate the Malt,
That lay in the House that Jack built.

This is the Cow with the crumpled horn,
That tossed the Dog,
That worried the Cat,
That killed the Rat,
That ate the Malt,
That lay in the House that Jack built.

This is the Maiden all forlorn,
That milked the Cow with the crumpled horn,
That tossed the Dog,
That worried the Cat,
That killed the Rat,
That ate the Malt,
That lay in the House that Jack built.

This is the Man all tattered and torn,
That kissed the Maiden all forlorn,
That milked the Cow with the crumpled horn,
That tossed the Dog,
That worried the Cat,
That killed the Rat,
That ate the Malt,
That lay in the House that Jack built.

This is the Priest, all shaven and shorn,
That married the Man all tattered and torn,
That kissed the Maiden all forlorn,
That milked the Cow with the crumpled horn,
That tossed the Dog,
That worried the Cat,
That killed the Rat,
That ate the Malt,
That lay in the House that Jack built.

This is the Cock that crowed in the morn
That waked the Priest all shaven and shorn,
That married the Man all tattered and torn,
That kissed the Maiden all forlorn,
That milked the Cow with the crumpled horn,
That tossed the Dog,
That worried the Cat,
That killed the Rat,
That ate the Malt,
That lay in the House that Jack built.

This is the Farmer who sowed the corn,
That fed the Cock that crowed in the morn,
That waked the Priest all shaven and shorn,
That married the Man all tattered and torn,
That kissed the Maiden all forlorn,
That milked the Cow with the crumpled horn,
That tossed the Dog,
That worried the Cat,
That killed the Rat,
That ate the Malt,
That lay in the House that Jack built.

———————————————————————

The song is 2:28 in length.  https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hGP8wqE0Kkg

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I saw a ship a-sailing,
A-sailing on the sea,
And oh! it was all laden
With pretty things for thee! 

There were comfits in the cabin,
And apples in the hold;
The sails were made of silk,
And the masts were made of gold. 

The four-and-twenty sailors
That stood between the decks
Were four-and-twenty white mice,
With chains about their necks. 

The captain was a duck,
With a packet on his back,
And when the ship began to move,
The captain said, “Quack! Quack!”

 

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There was a little man and he had a little can,
And he used to rush the growler;
He went to the saloon on a Sunday afternoon,
And you ought to hear the bartender holler: 

Chorus:
No more booze, no more booze,
No more booze on Sunday;
No more booze, no more booze,
Got to get your can filled Monday.

She’s the only girl I love,
With a face like a horse and buggy.
Leaning up against the lake,
O fireman! save my child!

The chambermaid came to my door,
“Get up, you lazy sinner.
We need those sheets for table-cloths
And it’s almost time for dinner.” 

Chorus:
No more booze, no more booze,
No more booze on Sunday;
No more booze, no more booze,
Got to get your can filled Monday. 

She’s the only girl I love,
With a face like a horse and buggy.
Leaning up against the lake,
O fireman! save my child!

 

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