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LONDON GRANT RICHARDS 48 LEICESTER SQUARE 1902
Edinburgh: T. and A. CONSTABLE, (late) Printers to Her Majesty
'ENGLISH SONGS AND BALLADS' must not be regarded as 'a choice,' but simply as a bringing together of poetical pieces which are, presumably, well known to the average person,--that is to say, the compiler has endeavoured to illustrate the general taste rather than his own preference.
Allen-a-Dale has no faggot for burning, 247
All in the Downs the fleet was moor'd, 129
And did you not hear of a jolly young Waterman, 201
Arm, arm, arm, arm, the scouts are all come in, 16
Ask me no more, the moon may draw the sea, 337
A spirit haunts the year's last hours, 330
Attend all ye who list to hear our noble England's praise, 309
Be it right or wrong, these men among, 39
Believe me, if all those endearing young charms, 273
Blow high, blow low, let tempests tear, 201
Busk ye, busk ye, my bonny bonny bride, 135
Call for the robin-redbreast and the wren, 19
Come, cheerful day, part of my life to me, 92
Come, cheer up, my lads, 'tis to glory we steer, 150
Come, Sleep, and with thy sweet deceiving, 13
Flow gently, sweet Afton, among thy green braes, 182
From the white blossom'd sloe my dear Chloe requested, 190
Green fields of England, wheresoe'er, 342
Hame, hame, hame, hame fain wad I be, 266
Hark, hark, the lark at Heaven's gate sings, 88
Here, a sheer hulk, lies poor Tom Bowling, 200
Here's to the maiden of bashful fifteen, 161
I come, I come! ye have called me long, 290
I'm lonesome since I cross'd the hill, 224
In Wakefield there lives a jolly pinder, 37
I sprang to the stirrup, and Joris, and he, 343
I tell thee, Dick, where I have been, 118
It was a blind beggar had long lost his sight, 24
Let the bells ring, and let the boys sing, 15
Long the proud Spaniards had vaunted to conquer us, 63
Move eastward, happy earth, and leave, 327
My banks they are furnished with bees, 139
No stir in the air, no stir in the sea, 231
Not a drum was heard, not a funeral note, 282
Now glory to the Lord of Hosts, from whom all glories are, 305
Now sleeps the crimson petal, now the white, 338
Oh, Mary, go and call the cattle home, 349