Lemme be wid Casey Jones,
Lemme be wid Stagolee,
Lemme be wid such like men
When Death takes hol' on me,
When Death takes hol' on me. . . .

Done skinned as a boy in Kentucky hills,
Druv steel dere as a man,
Done stripped tobacco in Virginia fiels'
Alongst de River Dan,
Alongst de River Dan;

Done mined de coal in West Virginia
Liked dat job jes' fine
Till a load o' slate curved roun' my head
Won't work in no mo' mine,
Won't work in no mo' mine;

Done shocked de corn in Marylan,
In Georgia done cut cane,

Last night, within my dreaming,
There somehow came to me
The faint and fairy music
Of the far-off, singing sea.

This morning, 'neath the pine tree,
I heard that song once more;
And I seemed to see the billows,
As they broke against the shore.

O wandering summer breezes!
The pine harps touch again
For the child who loves the ocean,
And longs for it in vain.

A knight and a lady
Went riding one day
Far into the forest,
Away, away.

“Fair knight,” said the lady,
“I pray, have a care.
This forest is evil;
Beware, beware.”

A fiery red dragon
They spied on the grass;
The lady wept sorely,
Alas! Alas!

The knight slew the dragon,
The lady was gay,
They rode on together,

Toiling in Town now is “horrid,”
(There is that woman again!)—
June in the zenith is torrid,
Thought gets dry in the brain.

There is that woman again:
“Strawberries! fourpence a pottle!”
Thought gets dry in the brain;
Ink gets dry in the bottle.

“Strawberries! fourpence a pottle!”
Oh for the green of a lane!—
Ink gets dry in the bottle;
“Buzz” goes a fly in the pane!

Oh for the green of a lane,
Where one might lie and be lazy!
“Buzz” goes a fly in the pane;
Bluebottles drive me crazy!

Where one might lie and be lazy,

Queen Jane lay in labour full nine days or more,
Till the women were so tired, they could stay no longer there.

‘Good women, good women, good women as ye be,
Do open my right side, and find my baby.’

‘Oh no,’ said the women, ‘that never may be,
We will send for King Henry and hear what he say.’

King Henry was sent for, King Henry did come:
‘What do ail you, my lady, your eyes look so dim?’

‘King Henry, King Henry, will you do one thing for me?
That's to open my right side, and find my baby.’

It's an owercome sooth for age an' youth
And it brooks wi' nae denial,
That the dearest friends are the auldest friends,
And the young are just on trial.

There's a rival bauld wi' young an' auld
And it's him that has bereft me;
For the sürest friends are the auldest friends
And the maist o' mine's hae left me.

There are kind hearts still, for friends to fill
And fools to take and break them;
But the nearest friends are the auldest friends
And the grave's the place to seek them.

1. It was a dark and stormy night, And the
snow laid on the ground. A young sailor boy stood
on the quay, And his ship was outward bound. “Farewell,
farewell,” says he to her, “I soon must leave you
now, But when I do return again, I'll think of you at sea.

2 “Farewell, farewell, my own true love!
Always keep true to me,
And when the ship is out at sea,
I'll always think of you.”
But he never did return again,
For his ship it foundered low,
And that's the way a sailor's life
To his sweetheart often goes.

It is at morning, twilight they expire;
Death takes in hand, when midnight sounds,
Millions of bodies in their beds,
And scarcely anybody thinks of it. …

O men and women, you
About to die at break of day,
I see your hands' uneasy multitude,
Which now the blood deserts for ever!

White people in the throes of death,
Wrestling in all the world to-night,
And whom the weeping dawn will silence,
Fearful I hear your gasping breath!

How many of you there are dying!
How can so many other folks be lying

It fell about the Martinmas time,
And a gay time it was then,
When our good wife got puddings to make,
And she's boild them in the pan.

The wind sae cauld blew south and north,
And blew into the floor;
Quoth our goodman to our goodwife,
"Gae out and bar the door."

"My hand is in my hussyfskap,
Goodman, as ye may see;
An it should nae be barrd this hundred year,
It's no be barrd for me."

They made a paction tween them twa,
They made it firm and sure,
That the first word whaeer shoud speak,
Shoud rise and bar the door.

The dust, unlifted, lies as first it lay
When on his dewy path came up the day;

The spider-web stirs not; on seas of air,
The thistle-ship, becalmed, rocks idly there;

The fern-leaves curl, the wild rose sweetness spends
Rich as at eve the honeysuckle lends;

The creeping cattle feed far up the hill,
The blithest birds have hid, the wood is still;

On daisied dials, pointing flower to flower,
The shadow-hands have reached the golden hour.