I LOVE TO SEE OLD FACES. J. WILCE.] I LOVE to see old faces, [Music by T. DISTIN. That, beaming with a smile, When hope-buds sweetly bloom, That, beaming with a smile, I love to see old faces, That shed their kindly light, To me they're ever dear. I love the genial smile That fills the heart with gladness, And care doth still beguile. AN HONEST HEART TO GUIDE US. S. LOVER.] As day by day We hold our way [Music by LOVER. Through this wide world below, boys, With roads to cross We're at a loss To know which way to go, boys; And choice so vex'd, And many a doubt has tried him, He'll wander wrong With an honest heart to guide him. More steadfastly we tread, boys, We from the path are led, boys. The serpent there With an honest heart to guide us. Should fill our sail, While others lose the wind, boys, Of luckless mates behind, boys. A friend in need, Let's rather brave Both wind and wave, With an honest heart to guide us! THE LAST GREEN LEAF. T. HAYNES BAYLY.] [Air-Irish, "The jug of punch." And so it is with us to-day, The bowl is filled, we must be gay; But could some lost one now return, J. WILCE.] DOWN TO THE BUTTON. [Music by T. DISTIN. [Among the Scandinavians their drinking cup was formed from the bull's horn; on the side were placed studs or buttons, down to which each warrior was in his turn expected to drink.] IN the days when this old earth was young, And down to the button each warrior quaff'd And they sung of the lands o'er the sea And the roof rang with shouts as they told They won from the foe in the fight. When their bards spoke of love, stiil they laugh'd— OH! HOW DELIGHTFUL! ARTHUR SKETCHLEY.] [Music by J. L. MOLLOY. OH! how delightful! oh! how entrancing! All was dreary-nothing bright. Oh! how delightful, &c. Oft when dark shadows are o'er us creeping, In dreary hours our lives away; When clouds are darkest oft doth shine THE FLOWER SHE LOVES. H. GLOVER.] [Music by H. GLOVER. BESIDE her lattice ev'ry night Some gentle flow'rets sweetly bloom, Who brings these flow'rs with toil and pain, She nothing knows, but still will take A letter, too, lay once conceal'd Yet its contents were ne'er reveal'd, OH, WHO WOULD BE A LANDSMAN? WILLIAM SAWYER.] [Music by CHARLES BRAID. OH, who would be a landsman in the spring-time of the year? When hearts are light as birds of flight that know not care or fear; When the breeze is salt upon the lips and cool upon the brow, And the ship goes driving, driving on, as she is driving now. A landsman! a landsman ! That I will never be, While there's a home in the swirl and foam Oh, who would be a landsman in the summer-time of year? When under skies like woman's eyes the trusty ship we steer; |