Marlborough Upper School Songs

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printed at "The Times" Office, 1901

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Seite 29 - DRINK to me only with thine eyes, And I will pledge with mine; Or leave a kiss but in the cup, And I'll not look for wine. The thirst that from the soul doth rise Doth ask a drink divine; But might I of Jove's nectar sup, I would not change for thine.
Seite 50 - Mid pleasures and palaces though we may roam, Be it ever so humble, there's no place like home...
Seite 102 - OLD King Cole was a merry old soul, And a merry old soul was he; He called for his pipe, and he called for his bowl, And he called for his fiddlers three.
Seite 119 - Wha will be a traitor knave? Wha can fill a coward's grave? Wha sae base as be a slave? Let him turn and flee! Wha for Scotland's king and law Freedom's sword will strongly draw, Freeman stand, or freeman fa?
Seite 118 - Of all the girls that are so smart There's none like pretty Sally; She is the darling of my heart, And she lives in our alley. There is no lady in the land Is half so sweet as Sally; She is the darling of my heart, And she lives in our alley.
Seite 118 - But sure such folks could ne'er beget So sweet a girl as Sally ! She is the darling of my heart, And she lives in our alley.
Seite 92 - THE minstrel boy to the war is gone, In the ranks of death you'll find him ; His father's sword he has girded on, And his wild harp slung behind him. " Land of song !" said the warrior-bard, " Though all the world betrays thee, One sword, at least, thy rights shall guard, One faithful harp shall praise thee...
Seite 92 - Though all the world betrays thee, One sword, at least, thy rights shall guard, One faithful harp shall praise thee !" The minstrel fell ! but the foeman's chain Could not bring his proud soul under ! The harp he...
Seite 5 - We'll tak a cup o' kindness yet For auld lang syne. We twa hae run about the braes, And pu'd the gowans fine ; But we've wander'd mony a weary foot Sin
Seite 27 - Rovin' tho' his death fell, he went wi' heart at ease, An' dreamin' arl the time o' Plymouth Hoe. "Take my drum to England, hang et by the shore, Strike et when your powder's runnin' low; If the Dons sight Devon, I'll quit the port o' Heaven, An' drum them up the Channel as we drummed them long ago." Drake he's in his hammock till the great Armadas come, (Capten, art tha sleepin...

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