endearing young charms
Bird of the wilderness
Blame not my Lute! for he must sound
Blow, blow, thou winter wind
Blow high, blow low, let tempests tear
Break, break, break
Busk ye, busk ye, my bonny bonny bride
But are ye sure the news is true

Call for the robin-redbreast and the wren
Cherry ripe, ripe, ripe, I cry
Cold's the wind, and wet's the rain
Come all ye jolly shepherds
Come, cheerful day, part of my life to me
Come, cheer up, my lads, 'tis to glory we steer
Come follow, follow me
Come into the garden, Maud
Come live with me and be my love
Come not, when I am dead
Come, Sleep, and with thy sweet deceiving

Dear is my little native vale
Doubt thou the stars are fire
Drink to me only with thine eyes
Duncan Gray came here to woo

Faintly as tolls the evening chime
Fair daffodils, we weep to see
Fair pledges of a fruitful tree
Fair stood the wind for France
Fear no more the heat o' the sun
Flow down, cold rivulet, to the sea
Flow gently, sweet Afton, among thy green braes
Follow thy fair sun, unhappy shadow
For auld lang syne, my dear
Four and twenty bonny boys
From Oberon, in fairy land
From the forests and highlands
From the white blossom'd sloe my dear Chloe requested
Full fathom five thy father lies

Gather the rose-buds while ye may
God Lyaeus, ever young
God prosper long our noble King
God save our gracious King
Go fetch to me a pint o' wine
Go, lovely Rose
Good-morrow to the day so fair
Good people all, of every sort
Go where glory waits thee
Green fields of England, wheresoe'er

Hame, hame, hame, hame fain wad I be
Hang fear, cast away care
Hark! now everything is still
Hark, hark, the lark at Heaven's gate sings
He is gone on the mountain
Her arms across her breast she laid
Here, a sheer hulk, lies poor Tom Bowling
Her eyes the glow-worm lend thee
Here's a health unto His Majesty
Here's to the maiden of bashful fifteen
Hide me, O twilight air
Home they brought her warrior dead
Ho! why dost thou shiver and shake
How should I your true love know

I arise from dreams of thee
I cannot eat but little meat
I come from haunts of coot and hern
I come, I come! ye have called me long
I knew an old wife lean and poor
I lov'd a lass, a fair one
I'm lonesome since I cross'd the hill
I'm sitting on the stile, Mary
In going to my naked bed
In good King Charles's golden days
In her ear he whispered gaily
In the merry month of May
In Wakefield there lives a jolly pinder
I sprang t