BILLY VITE AND NELLY GREEN; OR, THE GHOST OF A SHEEP'S HEAD.

Published by Duncombe.

Come, all you blades both high and low, And you shall hear of a dis- mal go: It

Dark, dark was the dun-geon, and hu-mid the walls, And barr'd was the grate of the

On the bosom of E-dric the slimy dews fall, And hor-rors endolce.

cir-cling young E-dric ap- pal, Be-lov'd by the maid, the maid of the moor. Cold,

cold was the night -air, and fast the snow fell, And clos'd was old Ethel - wold's

The heath was be-fore her, the
dolce.
Espres.

pri-son'd the youth of the vale, Sweet Jessy the maid of the moor, Sweet

THE GRAVES OF A HOUSEHOLD.

The Poetry by Mrs. Hemans.-Arranged, expressly for this work, to an Air by Donizetti. Andante.

ther bent at night O'er each fair sleeping brow; She had each

DEAREST GIRL, I SOON MUST LEAVE THEE.
The Music composed by Sir J. Stevenson.

lieve me? Whilst I live I'll true re main whilst I live I'll true re- main !

THE SEA-BOY ON THE GIDDY MAST.

The Poetry by William Pearce.-The Music composed by John Whitaker. f Andante Moderato.

ear-liest years I

fearless pass'd, A sea

There oft, to cheer the midnight hour,
The helmsman, with a fancy free,
His ditty to the waves would pour,

Of love on shore, and storms at sea;
And how the sea-boy, 'midst the rattling blast,
Keeps station on the high and bending mast.

boy on the high, the high and gid-dy mast.
Dear were the sounds, though rude and hoarse,
Of helm a-lee or helm a-weather,
To bring the vessel to her course,

And keep the sails well fill'd together;
While on the look-out far my eyes were cast,
The sea-boy on the high and bending mast.

THE NORWEGIAN MAID.

The Poetry by D. Thomson.-Adapted to a Norwegian Melody, by Muzio Clementi. Larghetto Melanconico.

'Ah, woe is me! beacon fires are vaia! Vain my night-ly watch I'm

keep-ing!

From the early morn-ing till the light de-cays, O'er tne roll -ing wa-ters still I sad - ly gaze;

Thus I waste the hours, thus the ling - 'ring days,-Weary nights are spent in weep-ing!'

Naught was heard to sound through the howling
Where the maid her watch was keeping; [blast,
But soon the dawn show'd the broken mast,
O'er the stormy billow sweeping:
Still, as sinks the tide, the lonely wreck is seen,
'Mid the beating waves the frowning cliffs between;
Where the beacon turf rises soft and green,
Now in death the maid is sleeping.

Ye who never know sorrow's keenest dart,
Far from all you love to sever,
Ah! weep for those who must sadly part,
Ne'er to meet again-ah, never!
Weep for her who often climbs the stormy steep,
For her lover there a hopeless watch to keep,
Who in ocean's cave must so coldly sleep
'Mid its heaving waves for ever!

RETURN, O! MY LOVE.

The Poetry by Sarina; arranged expressly for this Work, to a popular Swiss Air. Moderato.

Potatoes grow in Li- me-rick, and beef at Bally-more, And but-ter milk is

none could love more true Than lit-tle Pad-dy Wackmacrack lov'd Kate O'Don-a-hoo.

Now Katty was as neat a lass as ever tripp'd the sod,

And Paddy bore with equal grace the musket or
the hod;
[chose

With trowel and with bayonet by turns the hero
To build up houses for his friends, and then to
charge his foes.

When gentle people fall in love, love's never at a loss
To find some ugly customers their happiness to cross,
And Paddy found no little trouble from a rival swain,
Who kept the CatandCucumber in Cauliflower Lane.
This youth was named Mackirkencroft, a very
dapper elf,

[all himself;

Whose clothes they fitted neatly, for he made them
A tailor blade he was by trade, of natty boys the broth,
Because he always cut his coat according to his cloth.
But Paddy knew the feelings of a gentleman it hurts
To find another ungenteelly sticking in his skirts,
So sent a challenge without fear, for though he
wasn't rich,
[as sich.
He call'd himself a gentleman, and still behaved
Makirty, too, good manners had, for he, as it appears,
To Paddy wrote for leave that he might cut off
both his ears;

Says Pat to that, in style polite, as you may well

suppose,

[your nose.'
'My ears you're very welcome to, but first I'll pull
Then when and where were settled fair, when Pat,
as bold as brass,
[cried,' Alas!'
Cried, 'You know what we fight about?'-Makirty
And then in haste, and not to waste such very
precious time,
[out prime.

One prim'd without a loading, t'other loaded with-
Then back to back they stood, good lack! to mea-
sure yards a score,-
[before;
Mackirkencroft such honest measure never gave
He walk'd so light that out of sight full fairly he
[tween.

was seen,

And Paddy shot a finger-post some half-a-mile beNow Pat and Kat soon after that in wedlock's bands were join'd;

Makirty he kept walking on, and never look'd behind,

And till this day his ghost, they say (for he of love
expired),

Keeps walking round the finger-post at which bold
Paddy fired.