. British musical miscellany : being a collection of Scotch, English, & Irish songs set to music. £â SONG III. The Sailors Epitaph. $mj J-ffk^^^t Here, a sheer hulk, lies poor Tom Bowling, The 9HS TC JLJ! *-a -JâU 4 â * I* K dar-Iinsr of our crew ; No more hell hear *- m^^^m= the tem-pest how-ling, For death has brought wm^m^m him to. His form was of the man-liest beau- tsl*! fe : s--]-~r~r-râ-*ââ~T~TT? I a::: ty, His heart was kind and soft; Faith - ful j^gi^lgp^ be-low he die] his du-ty, And now roj^rfflf * hes gone a - - loft. And now hes gone *- fppb a - loft. Tom never from his word depar
. British musical miscellany : being a collection of Scotch, English, & Irish songs set to music. £â SONG III. The Sailors Epitaph. $mj J-ffk^^^t Here, a sheer hulk, lies poor Tom Bowling, The 9HS TC JLJ! *-a -JâU 4 â * I* K dar-Iinsr of our crew ; No more hell hear *- m^^^m= the tem-pest how-ling, For death has brought wm^m^m him to. His form was of the man-liest beau- tsl*! fe : s--]-~r~r-râ-*ââ~T~TT? I a::: ty, His heart was kind and soft; Faith - ful j^gi^lgp^ be-low he die] his du-ty, And now roj^rfflf * hes gone a - - loft. And now hes gone *- fppb a - loft. Tom never from his word departed, His virtues were so rare,His friends were many, and true-hearted, His Poll was kind and fair ;And then hed sing so blythe and jolly, Ah manys the time and oft!But mirth is turnd to melancholy, For Tom is gone aloft. Yet shall Poor Tom find pleasant weather, When he who all commands,Shall give, to call lifes crew together, The word to pipe all death, who kings and tars dispatches, In vain Toms life has dofPd ;For, tho his bodys under hatches, His soul is gone 9 SONG IV. Tammt/s Courtship. O whare hae ye been a day, my boy Tarn- -7T^- my? Whare hae ye been a day, my boy Tam-my ? *E=£ i H9H5HS3I- p~ £ #2- P- Fve bee a by bum and flowry brae, Meadow green, T< tJ ELi^ 1 ft . t\) f d ⢠_ 4^ n=^ 1 ââ® ^r U1 & » £ 4 and mountain grey, Courting a wi young thing^ % N ftâ ft fcâ pfpt^it -i* just come frae her mam-my. And whare gat ye that young thing, my boy Tammy ?And whare gat ye that young thing, my boy Tammy ? I gat her down in yonder howe, Smiling on a broomy knowe,Herding a wee lamb and ewe, for her poor Mammy. What said ye to that young thing, my boy Tammy ?What said ve to that vouns; thins, my boy Tammy ? B 10 I praisd her een sae bonny blue,Her dimpled cheek, and cherry mou ;1 preed it aft, as ye may trow ; she said shed tell herMammy. 1 held her to my beating breast; il My young, smil-ing Lammy,I held her to my beating brea
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Keywords: ., bookauthorrugglesbrisedorothealadyformerowners, bookcentury1800
