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BOOK 
 
 of 
 
 SONGS 
 
 Written by 
 A Blind Man 
 
 Copyrjglif, 1918 
 
NOV 27 \m 
 
"They are never alone that are accompanied 
 
 with noble thoughts, "--^ir P. Sidney. 
 
 Original Compositions 
 Songs, Hymns and Poems 
 
 Written by 
 
 MR. JOHN J. DOOLEY 
 
 849 Dwight St. 
 
 HOLYOKE, MASS. 
 
 1916 
 
 CONTENTS 
 
 Page 
 
 A Crazy Suffragette 13 
 
 A Farevt^ell to Erin 5 
 
 A Little Town in Ireland 3 
 
 A Ranting Roving Laddie 6 
 
 Belgium's Appeal 15 
 
 Brown's Resurrection or The Drunk- 
 ard's Dre'am 9 
 
 Christmas Time 13 
 
 Civilization 3 
 
 Darling Norine 11 
 
 Down in Old Mexico 7 
 
 Down with Germany 11 
 
 Equal Suffrage 2 
 
 Faithful and True 6 
 
 Hard Times 5 
 
 I Am Calling, Dear Saviour, to Thee. 12 
 
 I Love a Sailor in Blue 7 
 
 I'm Going Back to Tennesee 7 
 
 Immodesty 14 
 
 It Is Up to You and Me 4 
 
 I Will Meet Her When the Sun Has 
 
 Gone to Rest 15 
 
 Love Eternal 10 
 
 Murder 9 
 
 Oh Don't Forget Your Yankee Lads. 6 
 
 Old Palestine Is Free 10 
 
 Our Soldiers Welcome Home 6 
 
 Passing the Bar S 
 
 Page 
 
 Rally to the Stars and Strijjes 5 
 
 RoUing in the Clover 14 
 
 She Was Only A Woman 2 
 
 Stand By Your Guns Russian 
 
 Soldiers 4 
 
 Sweet Eveleen 12 
 
 The Banks of Sweet Dundee 15 
 
 The Brave Scot 6 
 
 The Flying Machine 14 
 
 The Good Ship Christian Endeavor. . 13 
 
 The Irish Yanks 3 
 
 The Ladies of Hell 7 
 
 The Lassie in the Kill 11 
 
 T'he March on Prohibition 8 
 
 The Old Red, White and Blue 16 
 
 The Parting Song H 
 
 The Picture of Mother and Child 2 
 
 The Pride of Lough-Rae 8 
 
 The Song that Appeals to the Heart . 10 
 
 The Sweet Game of Loving 16 
 
 They Will Fight the Prussian Foe ... 5 
 
 Uncle Sam is Calling 3 
 
 We Are Britons All the Same 5 
 
 We are Coming, Cousin Tommy 4 
 
 We Will Keep Old Glorv Plying 4 
 
 What Nation Are We Fighting 15 
 
 When Ireland Gets Home Rule 14 
 
 Where the Scotch Thistle Grows ... 12 
 
THE PICTURE OF MOTHER AND 
 CHILD. 
 
 There is a smile that has baffled the paint- 
 ers fine arts. 
 To produce it for years they have toiled. 
 But that beautiful smile they have failed to 
 impart 
 In their picture of mother and child. 
 
 Chorus. 
 
 It is that smile that appears when the baby 
 is born. 
 It will forever remain undefiled. 
 For the artist has never yet caught that s\\eet 
 smile. 
 In his picture of mother and child. 
 
 It is that beautiful smile on the young moth- 
 ers face. 
 
 Fresh and fair as the flowers in the mom. 
 It Is a smile that is common to every race. 
 
 When a sweet little baby is born. 
 
 The artistic hand on the canvas may paint 
 All the splendors of woodland and sky. 
 
 But that beautiful smile on the young moth- 
 ers face. 
 All painters best efforts defy. 
 
 SHE WAS ONLY A WOMAN. 
 
 She was only a woman who had loved and 
 had los'. 
 It is only the woman who must pay the 
 cost. 
 In a small country village she lived her 
 young life. 
 Far away from the city's temptation and 
 strife. 
 Like other young maids she was happy 
 and gay. 
 When a false hearted young man, hap- 
 pened her way. 
 He told her he loved her, she believed 
 wha' he said. 
 For he promised to marry this sweet coun- 
 try maid. 
 
 Refrain. 
 
 Broken hearted and sad she is weeping. 
 
 Grieving in sorrow alone. 
 In her arms her young baby lies sleeping. 
 
 She now has no friends and no home. 
 When the baby was born she was looked 
 on with scorn. 
 
 Tho' the man who betrayed her went free. 
 She was not to blame if she lost her good 
 
 name. 
 She is human just like you and me. 
 
 She was only a woman, confiding and true. 
 
 Loving and trusting as women will do. 
 How happy was she as the months speed 
 along. 
 The love in her heart would burst for'h 
 into song. 
 Her false-hearted lover was planning to go 
 And leave his young sweetheart in sorrow 
 and woe, _ 
 
 But this is a chance that a maiden must takiff^" 
 
 She must suffer the sheime for a false lov-ft^ 
 
 rs sake. 
 
 K<!3'^\i.^:x'Z' 
 
 She is onlv a woman, doomed by custom 
 to fall. 
 
 For what can she do when deserted by all. 
 Former friends at her now point the finger 
 of shame. 
 
 Her only refuge, is a house of ill-fame. 
 The law should make legal her innocent b^b? 
 
 .■\nd make her the false lover's ^v^fe. 
 O think of the thousands of bfautiful girls, 
 
 Would be saved lo a clean • 'oral life. 
 
 EQUAL SUFFRAGE. 
 
 For centuries we were but a helpless slave 
 Our life was filled with drudgery and toi'. 
 We had no freedom from childhood to the 
 grave. 
 We bore it all with patience and a smile. 
 We are working with you men now side by 
 side. 
 You have given us much freedom it is true. 
 Our ability now cannot be denied. 
 
 Then why should we not vote as well as 
 yoii? 
 
 Chorus. 
 Oh! Why should we not vote as well as 
 you? 
 There is something with the ballot we 
 could do ; 
 Those hell-holes of the ni^ht, we could 
 close them all up tight. 
 If you will only let us vole along with you. 
 
 It is we, who teach your children in the 
 school. 
 We train the boys and girls throughout 
 this land. 
 When in sickness or in trouble as a rule, 
 1 1 IS a woman by your side will bravely 
 stand. 
 When we assume the duties of a wife. 
 We lake care of your home and children 
 too. 
 With us you form a partnership for life. 
 Then why should we not vote as well 
 as you? 
 
 We are working in the office and the mill. 
 We have entered every branch of business 
 life. 
 There are a few positions now we do not fill. 
 
 Though we prefer to be a loving wife. 
 In literature and art we have gained fame. 
 We are doctors, and have lawyers qui'e 
 a few. 
 Then why should v^e not Equal Suffrage 
 claim ? 
 We want the right to vole as well as you. 
 We would close the bar, the brewery, and 
 the still. 
 It is we, who suffer most from this great 
 curse. 
 While you drinking men the brewer's pock- 
 e's fill. 
 You leave your loving wives a scanty 
 purse. 
 We appeal to a!) you men of sober mind 
 Who have mother's and have wives and 
 sisters . too. 
 We are sure to them you would not prove 
 unkind. 
 Then why not let them vote along with 
 
 ci.AJ)(i8H6;. y°"- 
 
A LITTLE TOWN LN IREJ_AND. 
 
 As I stag for Toa tooight. 
 
 Food utetMortes bmig tketr Sig&t 
 To a lini« towB ia Ireland far awaj. 
 
 To mj borne and old frieads. 
 Its green moaatain. streans and glexis. 
 
 And die hfgipy liovrs I ip«&t in old 
 Lni^Rae. 
 Ckorvs. 
 ^liea die Quistaaas tine ciaaij i \Mm\. 
 
 Widi its neny jajhal samiil. 
 Mj Bemoiy wanders back to old Loa^Rae, 
 
 For DO matter wiiere I roa^ 
 I will aways dunk of botne 
 
 And mv friends in dear old Ireland far 
 away. 
 
 I long to at once more. 
 
 Beside my fathers cottage door. 
 ^Tiere I watched the little children while 
 at play. 
 And on the jaunting car to ride 
 AX'ith my Mary by my side. 
 
 -As when fir^ she was my Bride in old 
 Loagfa-Rae. 
 
 CIVIUZATION. 
 
 "The pen is mightier than the sword." 
 ^Tien guided by a master-mind. 
 
 But when a fool that pen shall guide. 
 The sword, his master he will nnd. 
 
 When primitive man roamed the forest wild. 
 
 His mind was like that of a playful child. 
 His wants were few and ready to his hand. 
 
 He avoided what he did not understand. 
 
 Now this man is civilized 
 
 .And wonderful the things he has devised. 
 He dives beneath the waters, soars into the 
 
 . '^•. : 
 
 In spite of bis ingenuity he must prepare 
 to die. 
 
 "There is no God," the .Atheist loudly cries. 
 Your Holy Bible is replete v\-ith lies 
 
 It appeals not to my reasoning mind 
 The truth there- in is difficult to hnd. 
 
 "O. but there is a God". 
 
 The Christian meekly sighs: 
 "Tho' wicked men His Holy book despise. 
 
 It is the work of inspired minds 
 And within its pages sinners comfort find. 
 
 The great .Agnostic then replies: 
 
 "The mystery of life the human mind 
 defies. 
 How wise we would be, if we could only 
 know. 
 From whence came we, and whither we 
 shall go. 
 
 The greed for wealth and power 
 Has filled the world with strife, 
 
 PonHffs, Kings and Emporers 
 Care not for human life. 
 
 They claim to rule by a right Divine, 
 So upon their thrones 
 
 Mere man may not design. 
 
 Many Prophets came to save the world 
 from sin. 
 
 Bit III iB^i ai it 
 The wocU penab Jinria. 
 
 Camakm Jwaiaaili for die IMii haw Aed 
 Ami julixB Sw i uMi kave becB ovdfced. 
 
 Tlie wiiU ladaj if MI of i^ avl ^taifte 
 Awl waahMi ueViwtw o* !■■■■■ ate, 
 
 Tbe Oui^iaB aaliniw are at war agaia. 
 What does it aeaa 
 
 Has JcsBS died ia vaia? 
 
 Give 
 
 diort 
 
 Tliy power. O God. f 
 day 
 
 AD anery aad strife woaM pass away 
 To Bake die wliole w«wU luppy. 
 
 Woald be my plan, 
 
 I woald coapel afl mea 
 
 To love their fellow 
 
 THE IRISH Y.ANKS. 
 
 I diink it is a downright shame 
 
 The w-ay some people change tbeir amae. 
 NIv father's name is good raoidi for me. 
 
 They are a lot of Irish cr^iks 
 ^^Tio a^ire to be real Yanks; 
 From their good old Irish aaaies 
 
 They stok die D. 
 
 Chorus. 
 
 There are the \\'ooleys. the Hooleys* 
 
 The Cooleys and the Pooleys: 
 They want to be real Yankees. 
 
 So they changed their Irish name. 
 
 They cannot deny their race. 
 Th= Taafi of Irelamd's on their face. 
 
 Like "^'ours Truly** they are Docley all 
 the same. 
 
 I would take a solemn oath. 
 
 Thr-y were no Irish on that bsat. 
 That brought the Pilgrim Fathers to this ^lore. 
 
 I* was a long time after that. 
 Before the arrival of Poor Pat. 
 
 Notwithstanding we have Irish-^'anks ga- 
 lore. 
 
 UNCLE S.AM IS CALLING. 
 
 ^X'c did not want to go to war. but if fight- 
 ing we must do ; 
 Our Battleships are ready and we'll raise 
 cm army too. 
 And before this w^r is over, we will make 
 the Kaiser Rue. 
 For old Lncle Sam will show him what 
 our "^ ankee boys can do. 
 
 Chorus. 
 
 O'd Uncle Sam is calling, calling me amd you. 
 
 To rally to the stars amd stripes, the old 
 
 red, white, and blue. 
 
 He wemts us in his mvy and in his army too. 
 
 He is going to show those Prussians what 
 
 our ^ ankee boys cam do. 
 
 With poisoned gas and liquid flame, they 
 they thought to %v-in the day. 
 But the British French and the Russians, 
 have blocked them on their way. 
 They called on us to help them, the enemy 
 to subdue ; 
 So old Uncle Seun will show them what 
 our ^ ankee bovs can do. 
 
I WILL KEEP OLD GLORY FLING. 
 
 With others he must fall. 
 My darling boy, my pride and joy 
 
 Has heard his country's call. 
 Beneath the dear old stars and stripes. 
 
 With others he may fall. 
 In this great fight 
 
 For freedom's right, 
 
 He will bear an honored name; 
 
 I will keep the Old Glory flying 
 'Till my boy comes home again. 
 
 Chorus. 
 
 I will keep Old Glory flying 
 
 'Till my boy comes home again. 
 The stormy winds defying. 
 
 In the sunshine, snow and rain. 
 It may be faded, worn and tattered. 
 
 Proudly waving in his name; 
 I will keep Old Glory flying 
 
 'Till my boy comes home again. 
 
 I have draped with flags his picture. 
 
 That hangs upon the wall; 
 My pride is all the richer, 
 
 That he answered to the call. 
 Far away from we that love him. 
 
 In our hearts he will remain. 
 I will keep Old Glory flying 
 
 'Till my boy comes home aain. 
 
 I will keep Old Glory flying. 
 
 All you mother's do the same; 
 If your boy has joined the colors. 
 
 Hang a flag out in his name. 
 And to those who seek exemption. 
 
 It may bring a blush of shame. 
 If we keep Old Glory flying 
 
 'Till our boys come home again. 
 
 STAND BY YOUR GUNS RUSSIAN 
 SOLDIERS. 
 
 Back to the front every Russian, 
 
 Show the world you fear not the foe. 
 Do you want to be ruled by a Prussian? 
 
 Ah! Surely a thousand times no. 
 Back to your trench every Russian, 
 
 Lithuanian, brave Cossack and Pole; 
 Drive back the conquest-mad Prussian, 
 
 Let victory be your proud goal. 
 
 Stand by your guns Russian Soldiers, 
 
 Keep your bright star of freedom aglow; 
 Steadily should to shoulder. 
 
 If you would conquer your foe; 
 (f you cherish your newly won freedom. 
 
 Fight for your loved ones and home, 
 forward! Then brave Russian soldiers 
 
 Drive the Prussians from Germany's throne. 
 
 Back to the front every Russian, 
 
 Your women have shown you the way ; 
 They faced the big guns of the Prussian, 
 
 How bravely they fought on that day. 
 Back to your trench every Russian, 
 
 That your friends and the whole world 
 may know. 
 You will fight to defend that sweet freedom. 
 
 You won but a short time ago. 
 
 WE ARE COMING COUSIN TOMMY. 
 
 We are coming cousin Tommy, 
 
 From across the stormy sea ; 
 We are just plain Yankee Soldiers, 
 
 From the dear land of the Free. 
 We will fight with you in battle, 
 
 'Till victory is won. 
 There will be no Prussian Kaiser — 
 
 When the bloody war is done. 
 
 We are coming cousin Tommy, 
 
 Coming good and strong ; 
 And if you need more soldiers. 
 
 Millions more will come aiong. 
 We will help you cousin Tommy, 
 
 To spike every German gun. 
 There will me no Prussian Kaiser 
 
 When the boody work is done. 
 
 We are coming cousin Tommy, 
 
 Men of every race and creed; 
 We are Uncle Sammy's soldiers. 
 
 We are freedom's friend in need. 
 We are going to keep on fighting 
 
 'Till we conquer every Hun, 
 There will be no Prussian Kaiser, 
 
 When the bloody work is done. 
 
 We are coming cousin Tommy, 
 
 And before we sail back home; 
 There be no Emperor William, 
 
 Sitting on the German throne. 
 If he is wise, he will realize 
 
 That his royal race is run. 
 There will be no Prussian Kaiser 
 
 When the bloody work is done. 
 
 IT IS UP TO YOU AND ME. 
 
 The Germans would wage war upon this 
 ■ nation, 
 They deny 'our right to navigate the sea, 
 We claim the right to trade with all creation 
 
 No matter what their race or color be. 
 They sank our merchant ships without a 
 warning. 
 Our citizens have perished in the sea; 
 The friendship of this nation they are 
 scorning. 
 Shall we fight them? It is up to you and 
 me. 
 
 Chorus. 
 We will send our battle fleet across the ocean, 
 We will send our yankee army o'er the sea. 
 In this crisis let us show a true devotion, 
 
 To the flag that has befriended you an me; 
 It matter not what country we came from, 
 
 If we love our homes in this land of thefree. 
 We will rally every man to the call of Uncle 
 Sam, 
 And defend that dear old flag of Liberty. 
 
 We have always been a peaceful loving na- 
 tion. 
 We have welcomed all who landed on our 
 shores ; 
 For war we made no special preparation. 
 We would defend our rights and nothing 
 more. 
 Shall we allow those Germans to defy us? 
 
 Insult our flag and sink our ships at sea? 
 The fredom of the ocean they deny us; 
 Shall we fight them? It is up to you and 
 me. 
 
 I 
 
THEY WILL FIGHT THE PRUSSIAN 
 FOE. 
 
 The call to arms is ringing, throughout this 
 
 mighty land ; 
 And once agam our soldier boys, beneath 
 
 Old Glory stand, 
 With tears and sighs, and last good-byes, 
 
 off to the war they go. 
 They are going across the deep blue sea, to 
 
 help to set poor Belgium free. 
 With the battle cry of liberty, they will 
 
 fight the Prussian foe. 
 They will rally to Old Glory the flag of the 
 
 brave and the free. 
 It has never yet been conquered on the land 
 
 or on the sea; 
 We respect the German people, they are not 
 
 to blame we know. 
 Our sailors and our soldier boys will give the 
 
 Kaiser some surprise ; 
 With the battle cry of liberty, they will figh' 
 
 the Prussian foe. 
 
 RALLY TO THE STARS AND 
 STRIPES. 
 
 For forty years those Prussians had planned 
 this bloody fight. 
 They set aside their treaties, and ignored 
 all sense of right. 
 They made war upon women and childern, 
 they sank our ships at sea; 
 While our flag flies high, we will fight and 
 die 
 For America the land of the free. 
 
 Chorus. 
 We will rally to the stars and stripes where- 
 ever we may be. 
 We will fight b3neath that banner on the 
 land and on the sea. 
 Our Yankee boys are ready when they hear 
 their country's call ; 
 Ready for thfe fight when they know it is 
 right, 
 And for freedom stand or fall. 
 Those monuments of ancient art, which have 
 stood the test of time. 
 Were ruthlessly demolished by those cow- 
 ards from the Rhine, 
 With flying machines and submarines, they 
 would drive us of the sea; 
 While our flag flies high, we will fight and 
 die. 
 For America the land of the free. 
 
 HARD TIMES. 
 
 The rich are growing richer at the expense 
 of the poor. 
 The spectre of starvation hovers near the 
 workmans door; 
 High prices and taxation causing wan* -ind 
 privation. 
 The oldest person in the nation, 
 Never saw such times before. 
 
 Chorus. 
 There is the marke!man and baker. 
 
 The tailor and shoemaker. 
 When he pays them what he owes them. 
 
 Not one dollar can he save; 
 From the milkman to the Preacher, 
 
 All are living off this creature; 
 His life is one long struggle. 
 
 From his childhood to his grave. 
 
 The manufacturer and the wholesaler. 
 
 The jobber and retailer, 
 On the patient toiling masses. 
 
 They play their selfish game. 
 When the master he engages. 
 
 To raise his workman's wages. 
 The landlords and the dealers, 
 
 Boost their prices up again. 
 
 When tthe workman shall awaken. 
 
 This country will be shaken 
 By the greates* revolution. 
 
 This world has ever known ; 
 When hungry enraged labor 
 
 Takes up the gun and saber. 
 No mercy and no favor. 
 
 To the grafter shall be shown. 
 
 WE ARE BRITONS ALL THE SAME. 
 
 We are Britons all, when we heard her call. 
 
 As it rang o'er the land and sea. 
 We know that if her flag should fall. 
 
 No country would be free, 
 A mighty throng five million strong 
 
 From many lands we came. 
 What ma*ter our breed, race color or creed. 
 
 We are Britons all the same. 
 Chorus. 
 We are Britons all the same 
 
 And we glory in her fame, 
 We will fight for her whereever the old flr.g 
 waves. 
 
 Onward we will go 'till we conquor free- 
 dom's foe — , 
 For we Britons never, never shall b-; slaves. 
 
 We are Britons all, and though many m^ ' 
 fall 
 
 Before the fire of the enemies gun. 
 Brave and strong we shall still fight on, 
 
 'Till the victory we have won. 
 In every clime, the sun shall shine 
 
 On our people proud, happy and free ; 
 Far and near, without dread and fear. 
 
 They may travel on land and sea. 
 
 A FAREWELL TO ERIN. 
 
 Farewell to you Erin your green meadows 
 
 and wildwood. 
 
 Fond scenes of childhood, I bid you adieu. 
 
 Wherever I wander, oft-times I will ponder. 
 
 My heart growing fonder. Dear Erin of 
 
 you. 
 
 Chorus. 
 I love you old Ireland, Your bogs and your 
 mire lands, 
 Your old forts and round towers, each 
 glen and each glade. 
 Your old castle of Blarney, and Lakes of 
 Kilarney, 
 The most beautiful Island that God ever 
 made. 
 
 Farewell to you Erin, your broad valleys 
 and mountains. 
 The pure crystal fountains that flow at 
 their feet; 
 Your shamrocks and flowers and green shady 
 bowers. 
 And that beautiful vale, where the bright 
 waters meet. 
 
O DONT FORGET YOUR YANKEE 
 LADS. 
 
 If your sweetheart is a soldier, 
 
 A soldier brave and true. 
 Or if he is a sailor lad 
 
 A Bonnie boy in blue; 
 He may be fighting on the land, 
 
 In the air or on the sea. 
 O! Dont forget your Yankee-lads 
 
 Wherever they may be. 
 
 Chorus. 
 They are marching, marching, marching. 
 
 To the music of the band ; 
 And soon they will be fighting 
 
 In a far, far distant land. 
 And whether he is khaki clad, 
 
 Or sailor lad in blue. 
 O! Don't forget those brave young hearts, 
 
 That fight for me and you. 
 
 Write him a cheerful letter. 
 
 For you know he will be glad 
 To hear from friends and sweetheart. 
 
 From sister, ma and dad. 
 There will be weary days of waiting. 
 
 Before the deadly fray. 
 O! Don't forget your Yankee lads. 
 
 When they are far away. 
 
 THE BRAVE SCOT. 
 
 From her mountain sides and valleys wide, 
 
 Down to her seagirt shore 
 
 old Scotland is mourning for her sons 
 Who will return no more; 
 
 Many of her kilted lads 
 In battle have been slain; 
 
 The glory of their noble deeds 
 Will adorn the halls of fame. 
 
 Chorus. 
 With their bagpipes gayly scurling. 
 
 O'er the top the Scots go hurling. 
 They know no fear, fleet as the deer. 
 
 They race o'er No Man's land; 
 Around about them shells are bursting. 
 
 With their bayonets fiercely thrusting. 
 The Scot is in his glory. 
 
 When fighting hand to hand. 
 
 Here's to each lad in Tartan clad. 
 
 Proud of his ancient clan; 
 There is no braver soldier. 
 
 Than this fearless Scottish man 
 It will bs told in song and story. 
 
 How they won their way to glory 
 In the battle fierce and gory. 
 
 Where their blood in streamlets ran. 
 
 OUR SOLDIER'S WELCOME HOME. 
 
 Back from the field of battle, where the b g 
 guns roar and rattle. 
 Our soldiers are returning to their sweet- 
 hearts, friends and home. 
 From across the stormy sea, where they have 
 fought for you and me. 
 So that we should not bend the knee to 
 any foreign throne. 
 Chorus. 
 Meet them with old glory and a big brass 
 band. 
 
 Don't forget to shake each brave young 
 soldier by the hand ; 
 Fill the air with joyful noise, let your cheers 
 to heaven rise, 
 A welcome to our soldier boys, marching 
 home, marching home. 
 
 Let your whistles blow and church bells ring. 
 Have the children all turn out and sing. 
 Make this welcome to our soldiers boys 
 the grandest ever known. 
 Along the streets in thousands throng. 
 To cheer them as they march along. 
 
 With banquet, music, wine and song, give 
 them a welcome home. 
 
 FAITHFUL AND TRUE. 
 
 You have grown old and gray, my dear. 
 
 The bloom has left your cheek; 
 The clear sweet voice in which you sang 
 
 Is now grown hoarse and weak. 
 The sparkle of youth has left your eyes, 
 
 I miss your old time smile. 
 Oh would that, that I coud bring them back, 
 
 If only for a while. 
 
 Chorus. 
 Faithful and true you have been my dear, 
 
 Down through the long long years 
 Sharing my hope and joy my dear. 
 
 Sharing my sorrow and tears; 
 The heart in your bosom beats fondly for me. 
 
 Though you have grown feeble and old, 
 I love you dear wife, I will love you for life 
 
 'Till my form dear, the grave shall enfold. 
 
 Many years have past and gone my dear. 
 
 Since you and I first met. 
 Sweet memories of that joyful day 
 
 I never shall forget. 
 When I clasped your hand in greeting dear. 
 
 When I gazed into your eyes; 
 The love born at that meeting. 
 
 Is a love that never dies. 
 
 A RANTING ROVING LADDIE. 
 
 I'm a ranting roving laddie. 
 
 Like my father used to be. 
 With other laddies like myseV 
 
 I gang out on a spree ; 
 At every picnic, dance or fair 
 
 You'll find me with the laddies there. 
 My silver and love I share 
 
 With the lassies gay and free. 
 Chorus. 
 I'm a ranting roving laddie 
 
 Like my father used to be, 
 I love to hold a bonny blooming lassie on 
 my knee. 
 
 To kiss, and hu2 and squeeze her, 
 
 how I love to tease her, 
 
 1 love the bonny lassies 
 
 And the lassies all love me. 
 
 I'm a ranting roving laddie 
 
 Like my father i sed to be. 
 My mother gives me many a hint 
 
 That married I should be; 
 I love the lassies dark and fair 
 
 And wi»h them all my love I share. 
 But a wife would be an awful care. 
 
 To a roving lad like me. 
 
I'M COIN- BACK TO TENNESSEE. 
 
 THE LADIES OF HELL. 
 
 I am goin' back to Tennessee, 
 
 When the sweet magnoha am m bloom. 
 There is a little dusky girl there waits for me. 
 
 She promised she would marry me in June. 
 How the bones will rattle and the banjos 
 ring. 
 
 For my wedding am goin' to be swell, 
 All the colored folks will dance and sing. 
 
 When I marry my Sweet Annabel le. 
 
 Chorus. 
 
 I long 'o go back to Tennessee, 
 
 And her fields of golden corn. 
 To the little dusky girl that waits for me. 
 
 In the place where I was born. 
 She's the sweetest girl in my home town 
 
 And I know she loves me well. 
 She's not real dark, just a chocolate brown, 
 
 She is my own Sweet Annabelle 
 
 I am going back to Tennessee, 
 
 For there I never knew a care; 
 The white folks have been kind to me. 
 
 But I love my home down there. 
 The old banjos and the dear old songs 
 
 We darkies love so well. 
 We will dance all night in the bright moon- 
 light, 
 
 When I marry my sweet Annabelle. 
 
 My laddy is away with a Highland brigade, 
 
 And well I remember the last words he said, 
 
 ^'ou will be proud of me lassie, I will do 
 
 my bit well. 
 
 I am going to be one of the ladies of hell. 
 
 Chorus. 
 
 I love my laddie in the highland brigade, 
 I know my laddie loves his wee Scottish 
 
 maid; 
 When he will return O what tales he 
 
 will tell. 
 Of the fierce bayon^' charge with the 
 
 Ladies o hell. 
 
 There is no soldier more brave than the 
 Highland brigade, 
 
 Through mud, slush and water, they gallant- 
 ly wade; 
 
 Though many brave kilties in fierce battle fell. 
 They are still fighting bravely those lad- 
 ies of hell. 
 
 How they climb from the trenches at the 
 word of command. 
 Like wild deer they bound o'er the battle 
 scarred land. 
 Above the noise of the big guns, and burst- 
 ing of shells. 
 Can be heard the loud cheers of the lad- 
 ies of hell. 
 
 DOWN IN OLD MEXICO. 
 
 We have always done our level best 
 
 To treat ihose Mexicans right, 
 We do not seek their conquest, 
 
 We do not want to fight. 
 To catch the murderous bandit 
 
 Through their country we would go. 
 And that is why our soldier boys 
 
 Went down to Mexico. 
 
 Chorus. 
 
 The stars and stripes are flying high, 
 
 As our soldiers bid their friends good-bye; 
 
 Brave and strong they are marching on. 
 Off to the war they go. 
 
 It is another fight for liberty. 
 
 They are going to set those people free 
 
 From cruel strife and misery, 
 Down in old Mexico. 
 
 In dealing with our neighbors. 
 
 We have used the Golden Rule, 
 And through trying situations 
 
 Our statesmen have kept cool. 
 We believed Carranza was our friend. 
 
 But he proved to be our foe. 
 For he fired upon our soldier boys, 
 
 Down in old Mexico. 
 
 Come rally to old Glory boys. 
 
 That flag of liberty. 
 It has never yet been conquered. 
 
 On the land or on the sea; 
 Those cruel Mexican tyrants. 
 
 We are going to overthrow 
 And establish peace and happiness, 
 
 Down in old Mexico. 
 
 I LOVE A SAILOR IN BLUE. 
 
 Why all the cheers for the soldier boy, 
 
 Is not Jack not as brave as he. 
 He mans the ships guns. 
 
 And drives off the Huns 
 That attack our commerce on the seas. 
 
 Brave, loyal and true 
 Are our sailors in Blue, 
 
 Patrolling the seas day and night. 
 Afloat or ashore they are true to the core. 
 Ever ready for frolic or fight. 
 
 Chorus. 
 
 I love a sailor in blue, to me he will ever 
 be true. 
 When far out to sea, he is thinking of me; 
 Every night in my dreams, my brave sailor 
 I see, 
 O how my heart longs for the day. 
 When my Jack he will come home to stay 
 And make me his wife, his dear shipmate 
 for life. 
 And never again sail away. 
 
 Why all the praise for the soldier boy, 
 
 Is Jack not as brave as he. 
 He mans the troopship on its dangerous trip 
 
 That carries our men o'er the sea; 
 'Tis our sailors in blue that form the gun 
 crew. 
 
 Keeping watch on the deck day and night. 
 With true steady aim they win glory a 
 fame. 
 
 When the enemy ship heaves in sight. 
 
PASSING THE BAR. 
 
 My friends if you will listen, 
 
 A story I will tell. 
 It is about this cursed alcohol; 
 
 That drags men down to hell. 
 It turns a man into a brute, 
 
 And makes his family poor, 
 I am sure wi*h me, you will agree 
 
 To close the Bar-room door. 
 1 saw a mother and her boy 
 
 Stand at a cattle-bar, 
 I heard her gentle pleading words 
 
 As he gazed off afar. 
 Her boy had caught the wander-lust 
 
 Which filled her with alarm. 
 He broke his dear Old Mother's heart. 
 
 Tha* day he left the farm. 
 My boy, "Don't drink that alcohol", 
 
 "It will destroy your mind. 
 And in this busy world of ours 
 
 You will be left behind," 
 Beware! My boy of the first small glass; 
 
 All drunkards start with one 
 It is but a step to many more 
 
 When your self-respect is gone. 
 I saw that young man at a bar. 
 
 With its mirrors and bright light. 
 I saw him drink glass after glass. 
 
 Until late into the night. 
 And when his money was all gone. 
 
 And he could not pay for more. 
 The bar-man hustled him along. 
 
 And pushed him out the door. 
 I saw him stagger on his way; 
 
 He had lost all sense of right. 
 His course and vulgar language. 
 
 Filled all those who passed with fright, 
 I saw his young wife waiting there 
 
 I know her heart was sore. 
 For I saw the anguish in her face 
 
 As he approached the door. 
 I saw his child lie cold in death, 
 
 I saw his weeping wife; 
 Where is that promise that he made? 
 
 "To cherish her for life?" 
 He has broken all his marriage vows. 
 
 His promises were vam. 
 He could not pass that bar-room door. 
 
 He is drinking there again. 
 I saw him before a Justice Bar, 
 
 Charged with an awful crime; 
 He does not remember what occurred. 
 
 He was mad drunk at the time. 
 The nature of his cruel deed 
 
 I cannot here detail 
 It is the same old story 
 
 From the Bar-room to the jail. 
 I heard the Judge pass sentence. 
 
 He must go to jail for life. 
 I saw his tearful parting. 
 
 From his broken-hearted wife. 
 He is now behind those prison-bars 
 
 Where there are many more. 
 Who in their day like this young man. 
 
 Passed through a bar-room door. 
 My friends there is but one sure way. 
 
 To help the drinking man. 
 We must stop the sale of liquor 
 
 In the bottle, glass or can. 
 We must close down the breweries. 
 
 We must stop the whiskey still. 
 We must fight it through the ballot-box, 
 
 'Till John Barley Corn we kill. 
 
 _8_ 
 
 THE PRIDE OF LOUGH-RAE. 
 
 There's a dear little town in Old Ireland 
 
 Three thousand miles over the sea 
 There's a sweet little colleen that lives there 
 
 And I know she is waiting for me. 
 There's no handsomer girl in all Ireland 
 
 She IS witty light-hearted and gay, 
 She's a real Irish fairy, is my darling Mary 
 
 The pride of the town of Lough-Rae. 
 
 Chorus. 
 
 I'm going back to old Ireland, and Mary 
 
 Tomorrow the ship sails away. 
 And the dollars I've saved will come handy 
 
 For a nice little home they will pay, 
 The boys and the girls will be singing, 
 
 As they dance their wild jigs light and gay 
 And the wedding-bells sure will be ringing 
 
 For my Mary the pride of Lough-Rae. 
 
 How happy we will be, me and Mary 
 
 In a neat little place of our own 
 My friends sure will always be welcome 
 
 It will be a real Irishman's home, 
 There will b; plenty to eat, and a bottle to 
 treat 
 
 For a right hearty welcome I will pay. 
 You will be happy and free 
 
 While you stay there with me 
 And my Mary the pride of Laugh-Rae. 
 
 THE MARCH ON PROHIBITION. 
 
 We will make this glorious nation 
 
 The pride of all creation. 
 We are going to keep on fighting 
 
 Until every state goes dry. 
 Our cause is surely gaining 
 
 New recruits we are obtaining, 
 Tho' the mighty liquor interests 
 
 Our efforts may defy. 
 
 Chorus. 
 
 You will hear those Breweries sighing. 
 
 When John Barley-corn is dying, 
 There will be less crime and misery 
 
 When he is dead and gone. 
 How the rum seller will grumble. 
 
 When they hear that mighty rumble 
 Of our great prohibition Army 
 
 Marching on, marching on. 
 
 Come rally to our temperence cause 
 
 And help change those liquor laws. 
 And close up every bar-room 
 
 In the city and the town. 
 And when we have succeeded 
 
 No more liquor will be tjeeded, 
 The brewers and distillers then 
 
 Will close their factories down. 
 
 Come you men of every na*ion. 
 
 Whatever be your station. 
 We want you to assist us 
 
 To destroy this liquor curse. 
 We will improve your situation, 
 
 By reducing the taxation, 
 When we get the greedy brewer's hand 
 
 Out of the public purse. 
 
MURDER! 
 
 We were a* the front in Belgium, 
 
 All day it was a hell. 
 For *he Germans stormed our trenches. 
 
 With a hail of shot and shell 
 
 We were short of ammunition. 
 So we could not well reply. 
 
 We possessed our souls in patience. 
 Waiting for a new supply. 
 
 The sun went down and night came on 
 
 When the German fire did cease 
 Some of our boys laid down to rest. 
 
 While others talked a' ease 
 When suddenly from the German lines 
 
 There came a rumbhng sound 
 They were charging on our trenches 
 
 And they fairly shook the ground. 
 
 There was not a coward among us 
 
 We were a brave and gallant band 
 The signal ran along our lines 
 
 To fight them hand-to-hand 
 Tho' tremendously outnumbered 
 
 Wc withs'ood their fierce attack 
 And with our trusty British steel 
 
 We forced the Germans back. 
 
 Among our wounded prisoners 
 
 Was a fair-haired German boy. 
 He would not have his wound dressed 
 
 But begged to let "him" die. 
 We openend up his tunic 
 
 And his bleeding breast laid bare 
 That young soldier was a female 
 
 A woman young and fair. 
 
 She told us how her lover 
 
 In that fight had bravely died. 
 We went out and found his body. 
 
 And we laid it by her side 
 She gazed lovingly upon that form 
 
 From whence all life had fled. 
 Upon those lips she pressed one kiss 
 
 And then laid backward, Dead! 
 
 We buried them together 
 
 In the darkness of that nigh*, 
 And every man around their grave 
 
 Prayed God to end the fight, 
 For we thought of wives and sweethearts 
 
 Whom we had left far away, 
 Alas! Our prayes were in vain 
 
 The fight went on nsxt day. 
 
 Man's selfish greed for weal'h and power 
 
 Has filled the world with woe. 
 For where upon this cruel earth? 
 
 Did human blood not flow? 
 Throughout the world's long history, 
 
 We find this bloody stain 
 For o'er the entire human race 
 
 There hangs the "Curse of Cain." 
 
 We pray to God that this may be 
 
 The world's last bloody fight. 
 Grant to the nations of the earth, 
 
 A clearer sense of right. 
 From wickedness and tyranny 
 
 The human race release 
 And give to the people of the world 
 
 An everlasting peace. 
 
 BROWN RESURRECTION 
 THE DRUNKARD'S DREAM. 
 
 Brown was a good husband and father 
 When he left beer and whiskey alone. 
 
 But when drunk he would fight with his 
 neighbors. 
 And neglec* both his farm and his home. 
 
 Many hours he would spend in the rum shops 
 In the city, some three miles away. 
 
 Forgetting his cattle and farm crops 
 To drink beer and whisky all day. 
 
 One cold stormy day in the winter 
 When a blizzard was raging outside. 
 
 The thirst for strong drink came upon him. 
 So the cold wintry blasts he defied. 
 
 Tho' the piercing north-winds made him 
 shivver. 
 And the way to the city was long. 
 Through snow drifts he plowed and he 
 stumbled. 
 For the drink-demon beckoned him on. 
 
 Cold and tired he arrived in the city, 
 Straight way to the bar-room he went. 
 
 There he drank that vile stuff they call 
 whisky. 
 Until all his good money was spent. 
 
 It was late he staggered off homeward. 
 But he had not gone far on his way 
 
 When info a snow drift he tumbled. 
 There dead drunk and helpless he lay, 
 
 A party of searchers there found him 
 The carried him back to the • town. 
 
 Where a doctor by hard work revived him 
 And brought back the life to Poor Brown. 
 
 H-s friends with the best of intentions 
 Some liquor to Brown they would give. 
 
 But he spoke in a voice most determined, 
 "Not a drop. Boys, as long as I live." 
 
 He told them as he lay in the snow-drift 
 An angel took him by the hand, 
 
 And upwards and onward she led him 
 Thro' scenery most lovely and grand. 
 
 H" heard much sweet music and singing 
 .'^ s they came to a large golden ga'e, 
 
 St. Peter came forward to greet them 
 And quickly decided Browns' fate. 
 
 He recited to him all his misdeeds. 
 
 His life's history he seemed to know well. 
 
 A.ddressing the Angel he told her, 
 
 "To lead Mr. Brown, down to Hell." 
 
 As their steps they retraced, this good Angel 
 Told Brown she would guide him back 
 home 
 
 If he would promise to be a good Christim, 
 And leave Beer and Whisky alone. 
 
 His friends seem to think Brown's experience 
 Had somewhat affected his head. 
 
 But Brown is still keeping that promise 
 That he made to the angel when dead. 
 
 The moral of this simple story 
 
 To all drinking men I would tell. 
 
 There is no room for drunkards in heaven. 
 All such are sent down to hell. 
 
LOVE ETERNAL. 
 
 If the Glorious sun should darken 
 
 And grow cold. 
 And all life upon this earth 
 
 Would be no more, 
 My spirit Love, thy spirit 
 
 Would enfold. 
 I would love thee as dearly 
 
 As before. 
 The spark that thou hast kindled 
 
 Within me. 
 In my soul, my love, will ever burn 
 
 For thee 
 For I would love thee, I would love thee 
 
 Evermore 
 I would love thee through 
 
 Eternity. 
 For I would love thee, I would love thee 
 
 Evermore 
 I would love thee through 
 
 Eternity. 
 
 When in a last embrace thy form 
 
 To mine I hold 
 As the waters in the rivers cease 
 
 To flow 
 As the last dim rays of sunshine 
 
 We behold 
 And the mighty seas and oceans 
 
 Solid grow 
 It would matter not my dear 
 
 To you and me 
 For my spirit love will ever 
 
 Dwell with thee 
 For I would love thee, I would love thee 
 
 Evermore, 
 I would love thee through 
 
 Eternity. 
 For I would love thee, I would love thee 
 
 Evermore, 
 I would love thee through 
 
 Eternity. 
 
 If our loving souls should wander 
 
 Into space 
 And we leave this cold dark world 
 
 Far behind 
 We together Love the Judgement Throne 
 
 Would face. 
 For we would wander on 'till Heaven 
 
 We should find. 
 If the Angels should take 
 
 Thy spirit in 
 And I was compelled my love. 
 
 To part from thee 
 Should my soul for evermore 
 
 Reside in Hades. 
 I would love thee through 
 
 Eternity, 
 I would love thee, I would love thee 
 
 Evermore, 
 I would love thee through 
 
 Eternity. 
 
 THE SONG THAT APPEALS TO 
 THE HEART. 
 
 Burns has sang of banks and his braes 
 And Moore of his Lakes of Kilarney, 
 
 There are songs of the beautiful woodland 
 and stream. 
 Of the fairies, shillalah and Blarney. 
 
 There is a song that will always 
 
 Appeal to your heart. 
 It matters not where you may roam. 
 
 Of the world's sweet music 
 It now forms a part. 
 
 It is that song of Home, Home, Sweet 
 Home. 
 
 Chorus. 
 
 From the Nor*h to the South, 
 
 From the East to the West, 
 It matters not where you may roam. 
 
 The heart will respond within each human 
 breast. 
 When they hear that sweet song 
 
 Home Sweet Home. 
 
 You may wander far, far from your dear 
 native land. 
 And upon you Dame Fortune may frown 
 Surrounded by strangers, you are lonely and 
 sad 
 With no shelter in which to lie down. 
 What fond memories awake. 
 
 When you hear that sweet song, 
 Fho' the singer to you be unknown. 
 To the wanderer's ear there is no music 
 so dear. 
 As that song of Home, Home, Sweet Home. 
 
 You may be a brave soldier 
 
 On some battle scarred front. 
 Where the fight has raged fiercely all day 
 
 Amidst the cannon's loud roar. 
 And the bursting of shells. 
 
 You have thought of your home far away, 
 WK^n in the trenches at night 
 
 With other brave men. 
 Whose courage may be questioned by none. 
 
 There are tears in each eye. 
 When some brave soldier boy 
 
 Sings that song of Home, Home, Sweet 
 Home. 
 
 OLD PALESTINE IS FREE. 
 
 To Christian and Jews, proclaim the news. 
 
 The Holy Land is free. 
 Great Britain's sons with British guns. 
 
 Compelled the Turks to flee. 
 Democracy has spoken, 
 
 Mohammed's rule is broken, 
 Jerusalem's gates lie open. 
 
 Old Pale.stine is free. 
 
 Chorus. 
 
 O Palestine, O Palestine, 
 
 Thy land is once more free; 
 Infamous Turks no longer lurks 
 
 Within thy boundary. 
 Thine ancient Jewish nation. 
 
 Most sacred of creation, 
 Wilh holy inspiration. 
 
 Will fulfill her destiny. 
 
 Two thousand years of blood and tears 
 
 Has been the Fkbrew's fa*e; 
 Compelled to wander o'er the earth. 
 
 He has met with scorn and hate. 
 As soldiers they have fought and bled, 
 
 Wherever freedom's banner's led; 
 Let their flag now to the breeze be spread. 
 
 Old Palestine is free. 
 
 10 
 
THE PARTING SONG. 
 There's a custom much in use 
 
 In my old land 
 When a friend across the sea 
 
 Is gomg to roam. 
 His neighbors gather round 
 
 To shake his hand, 
 And bid him not forget 
 
 His dear old home, 
 ^^hen the flowing glass 
 
 Is passed around to all, 
 Their voices join to sing 
 
 That sad refrain 
 And from many eyes 
 
 The 'ears b^gin to fall, 
 Singing God be with you 
 
 'Till we meet again. 
 
 Chorus. 
 God be with you 'till we meet again 
 
 And may he guide your good ship 
 Safely o'er the main. 
 
 Where ever you may roam, don't forget 
 your friends at home, 
 God be with you 'till we meet again. 
 He finds it hard to bid his friends Good-bye, 
 
 But it grieves him more, to leave his 
 sweetheart dear. 
 He whispers to his darling, "Not to cry!" 
 
 And with words of love he tries her heart 
 to cheer 
 When many miles from shore his ship has 
 gone 
 
 Upon her storm-swept deck he will remain 
 For the breezes seem to bring, that parting 
 song, 
 
 God be with you 'till we meet again. 
 You may make new friends 
 
 Where ever you may go. 
 Fair maidens may be found 
 
 In every land. 
 But you won't forget those friends 
 
 You used to know. 
 Or the girl to whom 
 
 You've pleged 
 Your heart and hand. 
 
 New friends will kindly greet you 
 Day by day 
 
 But ever in your memory 
 will remain, 
 
 Your sweetheart and those friends 
 So far away, 
 
 God be with them 'till we meet again. 
 
 THE LASSIE IN THE KILT. 
 
 Have ye seen the Yankee lassie 
 
 In her high boots and her kilts, 
 I tell ye she's a bonnie sight to see. 
 
 While some of them have limbs 
 That are so beautifully built. 
 
 There are others just as skinny as could b?. 
 All the laddies have gone daffy 
 
 O'er the lass that wears the kilt. 
 While the old folks greets her styles. 
 
 With jeers and laughter. 
 Every laddie like his daddy. 
 
 Kens how his lassie's built. 
 Every lassie kens what her wee lad is after. 
 The laddies and the lassies 
 
 Will play the same old game. 
 No matter if her dress be short or long. 
 
 For the courting of a bonnie lass. 
 Will always be the same, 
 
 Tho' the old folks will complain, 
 And say it's wrong. 
 
 DARLING NORINE. 
 
 To wed a sweet maid I'm inclining. 
 
 She has cheeks like the wild Irish rose. 
 Her eyes like two diamonds are shining. 
 
 No queen could more gracefully pose, 
 She was born in the town of Tralee, 
 
 Where we spent many a happy long day. 
 When she sailed for this Land of the Free, 
 
 It was on the same ship myself sailed away. 
 Chorus. 
 O darling Norine, my Irish Queen, 
 
 It is yourself sure has stolen my heart. 
 If you will be my wife, I will love you for 
 life. 
 
 There is nothing on earth can us part. 
 When you name the day, love we will sail 
 away 
 
 And visit old friends in Tralee, 
 Then back over the foam we will sail ; 
 our home 
 
 In this beautiful Land of the Free. 
 
 It was down where the great vines were 
 twining. 
 
 My Norine was there by my side. 
 The bright silvery moon sure was shining. 
 
 When I asked her to be my sweet bride. 
 She said yes with a smile most entrancing. 
 
 Her voice was sweet music to me. 
 The love-light in her eyes sure was dancing 
 
 When I kissed my sweet girl from Tralee. 
 
 DOWN WITH GERMANY. 
 
 For forty years those Germans 
 
 Have planned this bloody fight. 
 They have set aside their treaties 
 
 And ignored all sense of right. 
 They have made war 
 
 On women and children. 
 And sank our ships at sea 
 
 Whilst our flag floats high, our baUle cry 
 Will be, "Down with Germany". 
 
 Chorus. 
 We will rally to the British Flag, 
 
 Where ever we may b:. 
 We will fight benealh that banner 
 
 On the land and on the sea 
 Her sons are always ready. 
 
 When they hear their county's call 
 Ready for the fight, where they know it's right 
 
 And for freedom stand or fall. 
 
 Those Germans sought, to rule the world. 
 
 Like the Romans in their day. 
 But the freedom-loving Briton, has blocked 
 them on their way. 
 They are in the field, and will not yield 
 *7 ill they gain the victory 
 
 It is freedom's fight, against the tyrant's 
 might. 
 So it is, "Down with Germany". 
 
 Those moments of ancient art 
 
 Which have stood the test of time 
 Have been ruthlessly demolished 
 
 By those cowards from the Rhine; 
 They have lied and spied 
 
 And the world defied 
 With their cruel treachery 
 
 In every land they have shown their hand 
 So it's, "Down with Germany." 
 
 11 
 
WHERE 
 
 THE SCOTCH 
 GROWS. 
 
 THISTLE 
 
 I have left dear Old Scotland 
 
 A long ways behind me. 
 It's fond recollections 
 
 I will ever re'ain 
 There is one link that binds me there 
 
 More than all others 
 'Tis a love of a lassie, 
 
 My own Bonnie Jane. 
 Chorus. 
 The Irishman loves his green little shamrock. 
 
 The Englishman loves his sweet-scented 
 rose. 
 But I love my Bluebell, my Bonnie Scotch 
 Bluebell 
 
 And I long to be back 
 Where the Scotch thistle grows. 
 
 My mind wanders back 
 
 To the scenes of my childhood 
 And those sweet gentle voices, 
 
 I hear them again 
 I remember those rambles 
 
 We would take thro' the wildwood 
 Where I picked the bright flowers 
 
 For my own Bonnie Jane. 
 
 How we sang the old songs 
 
 As we roamed thro' the heather 
 In fancy I hear now 
 
 Their joyful refrain 
 How happy were we 
 
 As we sang them together, 
 O, I long to be back 
 
 With my own Bonnie Jane. 
 
 The friends I have made here 
 
 Are surely kind hearted. 
 But in my memory. 
 
 My old friends will ever remain 
 When I think of my lassie 
 
 From whom I have parted 
 I long to go back 
 
 To Old Scotland again. 
 
 I AM CALLING DEAR SAVIOR TO 
 THEE. 
 
 I am bound for that Eden above 
 
 My Savior is awaiting me there 
 You may share in his bountiful love 
 
 And forget all your troubles and care. 
 His love he refuses to none. 
 
 To all sinners, salvation is free. 
 I hear his voice calling me home, 
 
 I am comming Dear Saviour to Thee. 
 
 Chorus. 
 I am coming Dear Saviour to Thee, to Thee, 
 
 From sin O I long to be free. 
 I have left the old life 
 
 And am bound for the new 
 And I want every sinner to come with me too. 
 
 There is just the same welcome 
 For me and for you, 
 
 I am coming Dear Saviour to Thee. 
 
 sinners come join me today 
 And start for that beautiful land 
 
 Dont mind what the scoffers may say. 
 Just tell them for Jesus you stand. 
 
 1 know he waits, there by the throne 
 With a welcome for you and for me, 
 
 I hear his voice calling me home, 
 I am coming Dear Saviour to Thee. 
 
 12 
 
 SWEET EVELEEN. 
 
 'Twas a bright summer day, 
 
 When I mounted my wheel. 
 And in*o the country 
 
 I quietly did steal 
 I could scent the wild flowers, as I rode along. 
 
 And the birds filled the air 
 With sweet music of song. 
 
 I had grown quite weary, 
 Having had a long ride 
 
 When I came to a cottage 
 Close by the road-side 
 
 It was smothered with roses 
 
 And Ivy so green 
 
 It was there that I first met 
 My sv/eet Eveleen. 
 
 Chorus. 
 
 Sweet Eveleen, Oh you are my queen 
 All thro' the night love, of you I dream, 
 
 Tho far have I wandered, many fair maids 
 have seen. 
 There are none would compare 
 Wi'h my sweet Eveleen. 
 
 As I gazed on this maiden 
 
 O'er my heart came a change. 
 
 Some subhme influence. 
 Made me feel strange 
 
 1 asked for refreshments 
 She smiled in return 
 
 As she gave me fresh butter-milk 
 
 Out of her churn 
 We chatted quite freely. 
 
 She asked me my name. 
 And begged me to call 
 
 When I passed there again 
 I promised I would 
 
 For she had won my heart 
 I kissed her Good-bye 
 
 And home did depart. 
 
 A year had gone by 
 
 And the summer had come 
 I mounted my wheel 
 
 To see her again 
 As I rode near the place 
 
 My heart filled with fear 
 I saw the old churn. 
 
 But no fair maiden was near 
 The roses were gone 
 
 And the weeds growing high 
 No cattle now grazed 
 
 In the pasture close by. 
 The windows were bare 
 
 The door lay close 
 And the silence of death 
 
 O'er the place did repose. 
 
 I stood there bewildered 
 
 'Til a man came along, 
 I asked if he knew. 
 
 Where those people were gone. 
 I enquired for my sweetheart; 
 
 He sadly replied: 
 That the dear little maiden 
 
 Had sickened and died; 
 I fled from the place. 
 
 For my heart seemed to reel. 
 And back to my home, 
 
 I sadly did wheel ; 
 And now when I meet people 
 
 Age-bent and gray, 
 I wonder why God 
 
 Called my darling away. 
 
CHRISTMAS TIME. 
 
 Strolling thro' a city's streets 
 
 As the snow lay on the ground. 
 From far and near came to my ear 
 
 A joyful Christmas sound, 
 I could hear the children singing 
 
 As the church bells gayly rang 
 A dear Old Christmas Carol 
 
 And I listened as they sang. 
 
 Chorus. 
 
 {An old English Carol.) 
 Hear we come awhistling 
 
 Among the leaves so green 
 Here we com-? a smgmg 
 
 The fairest to be seen 
 For it is the Christmas time 
 
 When we travel far and near. 
 So God Bless You and send to you 
 
 A Happy New Year. 
 
 And as 1 wandered on my way 
 
 My heart was filled with joy 
 1 remember how I sang that song 
 
 When I was but a boy 
 From out the brightly-lighted church 
 
 The organ music rang 
 And as I stood and listened there 
 
 The choir sweetly sang. 
 
 While Shepards watched their flocks by night 
 
 While seated on the ground 
 The angels of the Lord came down 
 
 And glory shown all 'round 
 "Fear not", said they, "Almighty dread, 
 
 "And cease your troubled mmd" 
 Glad tidings of great joy, we bring 
 
 To you and all mankind. 
 
 So let us all be merry 
 
 At this' joyful Christmas time 
 Bring forth the candy, fruit and cake 
 
 Set forth the ale and wine. 
 And we will drink a right 'Good Health* 
 
 To friends both far and near, 
 A Merry Christmas to them all 
 
 And A Prosperous New Year. 
 
 A CRAZY SUFFRAGETTE. 
 
 When God at the Creation 
 
 To complete his wonderous plan. 
 Took from the earth, 
 
 A lump of dirt 
 And with it He made a man 
 
 And then he saw how Adam 
 Would lead a lonely life 
 
 From out his side 
 He took one rib 
 
 And made for him a wife. 
 
 Chorus. 
 
 She was not a suffragette 
 
 Now boys don't you forget 
 And go and let her fool you 
 
 If you do, you will regret. 
 If you want to get her goat 
 
 Just take a solemn oath, 
 i. That you will not cast one vote 
 
 For this crazy suffragette. 
 
 Way down thro the centuries, 
 
 This woman was all right 
 She took care of the humble home 
 
 While her man would 
 Hunt or fight. 
 
 And though her life was strenuous 
 She would never fume or fret 
 
 She was a real woman then 
 And not a Suffragette. 
 
 If you take one for a wife 
 
 She will neither wash or cook 
 But lay down in a hammock 
 
 With a magazine or book, 
 She has no use for babies 
 
 She wants a pug-dog for a pet 
 So Boys, be wise, 
 
 AmJ do not wed, 
 A crazy Suffragette. 
 
 She has a mannish voice and gait 
 
 A large amount of gall 
 She's always ready for debate 
 
 For she thinks she knows it all 
 She is going to rule this country 
 
 On that her mind is set. 
 All around the town 
 
 Boys, Hoot her down 
 This crazy suffragette, 
 
 "GOOD SHIP CHRISTIAN 
 ENDEAVOR." 
 
 Sinners are but Sailors 
 
 On life's stormy ocean. 
 Many are shipwrecked 
 
 And never reach shore 
 If you will sail upon our ship 
 
 You will make a safe trip, 
 With Jesus as Pilot 
 
 To guide us safe o'er. 
 
 Chorus. 
 
 With Christian devotion. 
 
 We sail life's stormy ocean. 
 The wild waves may dash high 
 
 And the tempest may roar. 
 Around Jesus we will gather 
 
 And fear not the weather 
 He will pilot us safe 
 
 To That Beautiful Shore 
 
 The name ouf our Good Ship 
 
 Is "Christian Endeavor", 
 It has made many trips 
 
 And will make many more. 
 Our Captain and Pilot 
 
 Is our loving Savior, 
 He will land you all safe 
 On that Beautiful Shore. 
 
 You may sail on our "Good Ship" 
 
 Without hesitation, 
 Tho her decks may seem crowded. 
 
 There is still room for more. 
 It will carry you safe 
 
 To the Port of Salvation, 
 You may dwell evermore 
 
 On that Beautiful Shore. 
 
 In that Happy Land, 
 
 There is no grief or sorrow 
 You will meet 'here your friends 
 
 Who have gone on before; 
 There are no long dark nights, 
 
 You will know no tomorrow. 
 But one long joyful day 
 
 On that Beautiful Shore. 
 
 13 
 
THE FLYING MACHINE. 
 
 An Airman and Sailor are lovers of mine 
 They ha^e both popped the question to me. 
 
 My Jimmie he flies thro the air like a bird, 
 
 While my Jack he goes down in the sea. 
 I would sooner be flying with Jimmy above. 
 
 Than to go down into Jack's submarine. 
 I will soar up above, with the man ihat 
 I love 
 
 In his swift moving flying-machine. 
 
 When my bird-man shall make me his bride. 
 
 We will go on our honeymoon ride. 
 Up, up thru the clouds, far away from the 
 crowds 
 
 We will soar like a bird in the sky. 
 I will be his tweet aerial queen. 
 
 It will seem like a beautiful dream 
 To soar up above with the man that I love. 
 
 In his swift moving flying-machine. 
 
 I have rode in a carriage and automobile, 
 
 I have rode on a steamboat and train. 
 But they do not compare, with the ride in 
 the air 
 
 In a high flying swift aeroplane. 
 To leave this old earth with its noise an its 
 dirt. 
 
 It thrills with delight my whole being, 
 To soar up above with the man that I love 
 
 In his swift moving flying-machine. 
 
 WHEN IRELAND GETS HOME 
 RULE. 
 
 We love this land of Freedom, but we love 
 old Ireland best. 
 There's a fondness for the dear old home, 
 in every human breast. 
 And Erin's sons and daughters, wherever 
 they may be. 
 Will hope and pray for that glad day, 
 when old Ireland will be free. 
 
 Chorus. 
 
 We love her green clad mountains. 
 
 We love her flowing streams. 
 Her glens and her sparkling fountains 
 
 That haunts us in our dreams. 
 The old home with its turf fire, 
 
 And the dear old village school; 
 Sure we all know well. 
 
 Where we would dwell. 
 If Ireland had home rule. 
 
 We have won the fight for England on many 
 a bloodstamed field, 
 For Irishmen to any foe are never :nown 
 to yield. 
 For this great toll in Irish blood poured out 
 on land and sea, 
 We will now demand of England's hand 
 old Ireland's liberty. 
 
 Old Ireland had her patriots and her war- 
 riors brave and bold. 
 She also had her traitors who would sell 
 that land for gold. 
 To think he could take Ireland, Sir Roger 
 was a fool. 
 He is dead and gone and it wont be long 
 Before Old Ireland gets home rule. 
 
 14 
 
 IMMODESTY. 
 
 Modern woman now has donned to ancient 
 kilt. 
 Wearing boots that reach up, almost to 
 her knee. 
 While some of them are beautifully built. 
 There are others just as homely as can be. 
 Men need no longer patronize the stage. 
 
 Or hurry down to buy a vantage seat. 
 To the burlesque show which one time 
 was the rage. 
 They now may see a leg-show on the 
 street. 
 Go where you will this shameless thing you 
 see, 
 Those women who all modesty defy. 
 We wonder what next season's style will be. 
 They will have no clothes at all on bye 
 and bye. 
 Women are inchned to wear that simple dress. 
 
 That was worn by that ancient lady Eve. 
 There are some I do believe would wear 
 far less. 
 They would even go without those simple 
 leaves. 
 Woman shows an entire lack of common 
 sense. 
 When she becomes Dame Fashion's will- 
 ing tool. 
 The world will laugh and joke at her ex- 
 pense. 
 And men will look upon her as a fool. 
 There was some excuse for Dear Old 
 Mother Eve 
 I o stroll about the garden without clothes. 
 Attired in but a simple leaf, 
 
 She had no knowledge of the sexes we 
 suppose. 
 There was but one man to gaze upon her 
 form. 
 There was no other maid for Adam to 
 admire. 
 It is likely when their children were born. 
 
 They arranged themselves in suitable attire. 
 These women who parade in scant attire. 
 Will bring upon their sex both sin and 
 shame. 
 They will kindle an immoral hellish fire. 
 And sweet modesty will perish in that 
 flame. 
 
 ROLLING IN THE CLOVER. 
 When out strolling with your lass, 
 
 A field of clover you should pass; 
 Just wait there 'till the moon is clouding over. 
 
 As the darkness gathers 'round. 
 Lay her gently on the ground 
 
 And roll your bonnie lassie in the clover. 
 Chorus. 
 Rolling in the clover on the pleasant sum- 
 mer's night, 
 Rolling in the clover as fair Luna hides 
 her light. 
 When the moon is under cover tell your las- 
 sie how you love her 
 While rolling, rolling over in the clover. 
 It is a most enchantmg game 
 
 With its pleasures, fears and pain; 
 For courting is the same the world over. 
 Every pretty little Miss is waiting for a 
 
 hug and kiss 
 From a laddie who will roll her in the 
 clover. 
 
BELGIUM'S APPEAL. 
 
 God have mercy and compassion 
 
 Gaze wi'h pity on our blood-stained land, 
 Deliver us from war's oppression 
 
 And stay O God, the cruel Tyrant's hand. 
 
 Refrain. 
 
 O God, O when will this world be free? 
 
 From wickedness and tyranny? 
 O let us not implore m vain. 
 
 We ask Thee in Our Savior's name. 
 
 When Jesus suffered on Calvary mountain 
 
 He died from sin 
 To set this world free 
 
 And there his blood flowed 
 As from a fountam. 
 
 To cleanse the earth 
 From strife and m.isery. 
 
 Look down O God upon our ruined home 
 And end forever this bloody strife, 
 
 And smile those tyrants upon their throne 
 And bring all men to lead a peaceful life. 
 
 WHAT NATION ARE WE FIGHT- 
 ING? 
 
 What nation are we fighting? That is what 
 
 we want to know! 
 Over there in Europe they claim we have a 
 
 foe ; 
 Our Generals are waiting for our Yankee 
 
 fighting men ; 
 We tell them they are coming, and the echo 
 
 answers. When? 
 
 Chorus. 
 
 What nation are we fighting, we would like 
 
 to know this much ? 
 Are they Teutons, are they Germans, are 
 
 they Prussians, are they Dutch? 
 The British, French and Russians, call i.hem 
 
 Germans, is it so? 
 Now what nation are we fighting? That is 
 
 what we want to know. 
 
 The stars and stripes flung to the breeze, wave 
 
 proudly o'er our land. 
 It does not inspire the brave response, it;: 
 
 glory would demand. 
 The patriot light that shone so bright some 
 
 sixty years ago. 
 In this dark hour of freedoms fight is burning 
 
 dim and low. 
 
 We do not rally to old Glory, like our fath- 
 ers did of yore; 
 
 This great lack of patriotism our country 
 must deplore. 
 
 When our soldiers are in Battle and the 
 bullets round them hum, 
 
 When the Krupp guns roar and rattle, will 
 they know who mans the gun ? 
 
 In camps throughout this nation our soldiers 
 
 are at drill ; 
 When they are ready for the fight, who are 
 
 they going to kill ? 
 If we are not fighting Germans, who then is 
 
 our foe ? 
 Who in blazes are we fighting, that is what 
 
 we want to know? 
 
 I WILL MEET HER WHEN THE SUN 
 HAS GONE TO REST. 
 
 I will meet my little darling by the river. 
 
 Beneath that dear old weeping willow tree. 
 I never will forsake my love, no never. 
 
 She is the dearest girl on earth to m''. 
 When o'er the hills the shades of night are 
 creeping. 
 And the little birds retire to their nes'. 
 When only the shining stars their watch u 
 keeping, 
 I will meet her when the sun has gone to 
 res^ 
 
 Chorus. 
 
 I will meet my little darling by the river. 
 In the evening when the sun has gone to 
 rest. 
 How sweet will be the kisses I will give her 
 In that shady nook, the place that we love 
 best. 
 There we will tell our tales of fond affection. 
 As I kiss my love and fold her to my 
 breast. 
 Beneath the weeping willow tree, so dear 
 to her and me, 
 I will meet her when the sun has gone to 
 rest. 
 
 I will build a cozy cottage by the river. 
 
 Beside that dear old weeping willow tree, 
 A fondness for that place will dwell forever. 
 
 In mine and my sweet darling's memory. 
 In the evening we will sit beneath the wiHow 
 
 And watch the golden sun sink in the wes". 
 As upon my breast her loving head she'll 
 pillow, 
 
 I will whisper dear the sun has gone to 
 rest. 
 
 THE BANKS OF SWEET DUNDEE. 
 
 I am far away from Scotland, and the lassie 
 I love dear. 
 And in the silent hovvs of night, 1 dream 
 that she is near. 
 I E'-em to hear her aentle voice as she bade 
 farewell to me. 
 You wont forget your friends dear lad, 
 when you're far across the s?.a. 
 
 Chorus. 
 
 You wont forget your friends dear lad. 
 
 Wherever you may roam, 
 "\'ou won't forget the old folks 
 
 And your dear old Scottish home. 
 You won't forget *he promise lad. 
 
 That you have made to me. 
 And you wont forget 
 
 When last we met. 
 On the banks of Sweet Dundee. 
 
 I am going back to Scotland to her bonnie 
 banks and braes. 
 And the wee house by the river, where I 
 spent my childhood days. 
 There is a lassie there with golden-hair, waits 
 patiently for me. 
 And she will be my bonnie bride on the 
 Banks of Sweet Dundee. 
 
 15 
 
THE OLD RED. WHITE .\ND BLUE. 
 
 THE SWEET QAME OF LO\ING. 
 
 Great Britain did not seek this war. 
 
 But if fighting she must do. 
 She has Battle-ships in plenty 
 
 .And men and money too. 
 And before this war is over 
 She v*-ill make the Kaiser rue. 
 That he ever sent his armies 
 
 Into Belgiimi. 
 
 Chorus. 
 
 Old Elngland is wanting soldiers 
 
 She is callmg me and you 
 To rally "round her Union Jack 
 
 The old red. white, and blue. 
 AX'e will cross the Engli^ channel boys 
 
 .And join our comrades true. 
 And drive the Germau Army 
 
 Out of Belgium. 
 
 The Kaiser like Napoleon 
 
 AX'ould fain rule all the world. 
 So at Russia. France and Belgivim 
 
 He his mighty legions hurled. 
 But the Briton soon got ready 
 
 .And his Union Jack unfurled 
 And He's going to drive 
 
 The Germans out of Belgium. 
 
 The Russians, French and Belgians 
 
 Fought valiently we know. 
 But they were far outnumbered 
 
 By their merciless German foe. 
 So the British quickly mobilized 
 
 .And to their aid did go 
 They will dnve the German Army 
 
 Out of Belgium. 
 
 May Success attend Great Bntam 
 
 .And her brave fighting men. 
 With Russia. France and Belgium 
 
 This war they %*ill surely %*"in 
 The "Black Eagle" cUid "The Turkey' 
 
 Will look like an old wet hen, 
 ^"hen they drive the German Army 
 
 Out of Belgium 
 
 If they should make a prisoner 
 
 Of his German Majesty 
 They will forwaird him to London 
 
 ^XTiere they'll treat him courteously 
 And then they will transport him 
 
 To that island o'er the sea 
 ^Tiere once there lived and died 
 
 The great Napoleon. 
 
 The Italians now are in the fight. 
 
 They wWl do their duty well. 
 What will become of Germany 
 
 There is no one now can tell. 
 But 1 think that Kaiser \^'ilhelm 
 
 To his throne may bid farewell 
 ^X'hen the .Allied troops 
 
 .Are marching into Berlin. 
 
 \^ hen a girl is in love, you N\-ill find her 
 the same. 
 \^"hatever her station may be. 
 She may dwell in a palace, all lovely and 
 grsmd. 
 Or a fisherman's hut by the sea. 
 No master what nation has given her birth. 
 No matter her color or race. 
 
 The same rogui^ his-inkle is seen in her 
 
 eyes, 
 e same lovelv snile on her face. 
 
 Th 
 
 Cho 
 
 rhe sweet game of loNnng is cdways the same. 
 
 No matter by whom it is played. 
 She may be a dark beauty in some savage 
 tnbe. 
 
 Or ie may be a civilized maid. 
 The heart in each bosom will throb with 
 delight. 
 
 When their lovers appear on the scene. 
 The same loving smile will illumine each face. 
 
 In their eyes is that same . roguish gleam. 
 
 If you will travel this world, you will find 
 
 love is the same. 
 
 It matters not where you may roam. 
 She may be* dark. red. yellow or white. 
 
 She longs to be queen of a home. 
 Tho' customs may di5er in every land. 
 
 In their courting there is nothing new. 
 The man who awakens a maiden's first love. 
 
 To him she will ever prove true. 
 
 Printed on L'nion Watermark Paper 
 
 16 
 
Printed on Union Watermark Paper 
 
 H243 78 525 
 

 
 
 
 
 
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