In the Cottage by the Sea,
In the Cottage by the Sea,
Joyful hail’d each coming morrow
In the Cottage by the Sea.
Fancy sees the rose-trees twining,
Round the old and rustic door,
And below, the white beach shining,
Where I gather’d shells of yore.
Hears my mother’s gentle warning,
As she took me on her knee;
And I feel again life’s morning,
In the Cottage by the Sea.
In the Cottage by the Sea, &c.
What though years rolled above me,
Though ’mid fairer scenes I roam,
Yet I ne’er shall cease to love thee,
Childhood’s dear and happy home!
And when life’s long day is closing,
Oh! how pleasant it would be;
On some faithful heart reposing
In the Cottage by the Sea.
In the Cottage by the Sea, &c.
9
Ben Fisher and Wife.
Copied by permission of FIRTH, POND, & CO., 547 Broadway, N. Y.,
publishers of the music.
Ben Fisher had finish’d his hard day’s work,
And he sat at his cottage door;
His good wife Kate sat by his side,
And the moonlight danced on the floor--
The moonlight danced on the cottage floor,
Her beams were clear and bright,
As when he and Kate, twelve years before,
Talk’d love in her mellow light.
Talk’d love in her mellow light.
_Chorus._--The moonlight danced on the cottage floor,
Her beams were clear and bright,
As when he and Kate, twelve years before,
Talk’d love in her mellow light.
Ben Fisher had never a pipe of clay,
And never a dram drank he,
So he loved at home with his wife to stay,
And they chatted right merrily--
Right merrily they chatted on,
Her babe slept on her breast,
While a chubby rogue, with rosy smile,
On his father’s knee found rest,
On his father’s knee found rest.
Right merrily, &c.
Ben told her how fast the potatoes grew,
And the corn in the lower field,
And the wheat on the hills was grown to seed,
And promised a glorious yield.
A glorious yield in the summer-time,
And his orchard was doing fair,
His sheep and his flock were in their prime,
His farm all in good repair,
His farm all in good repair.
A glorious yield, &c.
10
Kate said that her garden look’d beautiful,
Her fowls and her calves were fat,
The butter that Tommy that morning had churn’d,
Would buy him a Sunday hat.
That Jenny for pa a new shirt had made,
And it was done, too, by the rule,
That Neddy nicely could the garden spade.
And Ann was up head at school.
And Ann was up head at school.
That Jenny for pa, &c.
Ben slowly raised his toil-worn hand,
Through his locks of grayish brown:
“I’ll tell you, Kate, what I think,” said he,
“We’re the happiest folks in town.”
“I know,” said Kate, “that we all work hard
Work and health go together I’ve found,
For there’s Mrs. Bell does not work at all,
And she’s sick the whole year round,
And she’s sick the whole year round.
I know,” said Kate, &c.
“They are worth their thousands, so people say,
But I ne’er saw them happy yet;
’Twould not be me that would take their gold,
And live in a constant fret.
My humble home has a light within,
Mrs. Bell’s gold could not buy--
Six lovely children, a merry heart,
And a husband’s love-lit eye,
And a husband’s love-lit eye.
My humble home, &c.”
I fancied a tear was in Ben’s fine eye,
The moon shone brighter and clearer,
I could not tell why the man should cry,
But he hitch’d up to Kate still nearer.
He lean’d his head on her shoulder there,
And he took her hand in his,
And I guess (though I look’d at the moon just then),
That he left on her lips a kiss,
That he left on her lips a kiss.
He lean’d his head, &c.
11
A National Song.
All hail! Unfurl the stripes and stars!
The banner of the free!
Ten times ten thousand patriots greet
The shrine of Liberty;
Come, with one heart, one hope, one aim,
An undivided band,
To elevate, with solemn rites,
The ruler of our land.
Not to invest a potentate,
With robes of majesty--
Not to confer a kingly crown,
Nor bend a supple knee.
We now beneath no scepter’d sway--
Obey no royal nod--
Columbia’s sons, erect and free,
Kneel only to their God!
Our ruler boasts no titled rank,
No ancient, princely line--
No legal right to sovereignty,
Ancestral and divine.
A patriot--at his country’s call
Responding to her voice
One of the people--he becomes
A sovereign by our choice.
And now, before the mighty pile
We’ve rear’d to Liberty,
He swears to cherish and defend
The charter of the free!
God of our country! seal his oath
With thy supreme assent.
God save the Union of the States!
God save the President!
12
The Old Brown Cot.
Among the scenes to memory dear,
To which my fancy oft returns,
And for those long-lost days of joy
My spirit in its sadness dreams.
There’s none which seems so dear to me
As that where past life’s early morn;
There’s none for which I sigh so oft,
As for the cot where I was born.