He just had reached the time of life, When cares are felt by men, But when they're strong to bear them well, - A score of years and ten. "Heigh ho!" says he, "and this is life,...
Hear me now, my hobby-horse, my steed of prancing paces! Time is it that you and I won something more than races. I have got a fine cocked hat, with feathers proudly waving;...
Ah, hast thou gone from him whose breast Bleeds with the thought we are apart, Whose tears fall vainly and unblest, Whose all--a crushed--a broken heart!
Proudly the youth, by manhood sudden crowned, Went walking by his horses to the plough, For the first time that morn. No soldier gay Feels at his side the throb of the gold hilt...
Turn from Kerry crossroads and leave the wooded dells, Take the mountain path and find where Tip O'Leary dwells; Tip O'Leary is the name, I sing it all day long,...
To think to know the country and now know The hillside on the day the sun lets go Ten million silver lizards out of snow! As often as I've seen it done before I can't pretend to tell the way it's done....
Hills where once my love and I Let the hours go laughing by! All your woods and dales are sad,-- You have lost your Oread. Falling leaves! Silent woodlands! Half your loveliness is fled....
Ah, Koelue! Had you embalmed your beauty, so It could not backward go, Or change in any way, What were the use, if on my eyes The embalming spices were not laid To keep us fixed,...
Up a dark and fetid alley, where the offal and the slime Of a brave and blusterous city met its misery and crime, In a hovel reeking pestilence, and noisome as the grave,...
When maiden loves, she sits and sighs, She wanders to and fro; Unbidden tear-drops fill her eyes, And to all questions she replies, With a sad heigho! 'Tis but a little word - "heigho!"...
Oh, the hobo's life is a roving life; It robs pretty maids of their heart's delight - It causes them to weep and it causes them to mourn For the life of a hobo, never to return. ...
In the beginning God made thee A woman well to look upon, Thy tender body as a tree Whereon cool wind hath always blown Till the clean branches be well grown.
Away to the hills, away! - There is health in the summer air; - The rustling bough, and the bending spray, And the breath of flowers are there - The honey-bee's hum and the wild bird's song,...
What hast thou not withstood, Tempest-despising tree, Whose bloat and riven wood Gapes now so hollowly, What rains have beaten thee through many years,...
Bud, come here to your uncle a spell, And I'll tell you something you mustn't tell - For it's a secret and shore-'nuf true, And maybe I oughtn't to tell it to you! But out in the garden, under the shade...