Fair Phoebe and Her Dark Ey’d Sailor

It’s of a comely young lady fair,
Was walking out to take the air,
She met a sailor upon her way,
So I paid attention to hear what they did say.
Said William ? lady, why do you roam alone,
The night is coming and the day is near gone?
She said, while tears from her eyes did fall,
’It’s a dark-ey’d sailor that’s proving my downfall
It’s two long years since he left my land,
I took a gold ring from off my hand,
We broke the token ? here’s part with me,
And the other’s rolling at the bottom of the sea.
Said William, drive him all from your mind,
Some other sailor as good as you’ll fine,
Love turns aside, and soon cold do grow,
Like a winter’s morning when lands are clothe with snow.
Those words did Phoebe’s fond heart inflame,
She said on me you shall play no game,
She drew a dagger and then did cry
For my dark-ey’d sailor a maid I’ll live and die.
His coal-black eye and his curly hair,
And please tongue did my heard insnare,
Genteel he was, but no rake like you,
To advise a maiden to slight the jacket blue.
But still, said Phoebe, I’ll ne’er disdain,
A tarry sailor, but treat the same,
So drink to his health ? here’s a piece of coin,
But my dark-ey’s sailor still claims this heart of mine
The half the ring did young William show,
She seem’d distracted ‘midst joy and woe,
Oh, welcome, William, I’ve lands and gold,
For my dark-ey’d sailor, so manly, true, and bold.
Then in a village down by the sea,
They joined in wedlock and well agree,
So maids be true when your love’s away,
For a cloudy morning brings forth a shining day.

Cottage Near Rochelle

When I beheld the anchor weighed,
And with the shore they image fade,
I deemed each wave a boundless sea,
That bore my still from love and thee,
I watched alone the sun decline,
And envied beams on thee to shine,
While my anguish painted ’neath her spell,
My love and cottage near Rochelle.

‘Mid every clime would mem’ry trace,
In every scene that gentle face,
That mute pale lip, they parting sigh,
That one sad tear which filled thine eye,
Till fancy’s dream with sweet control,
On magic wings would lift my soul,
And waft me home with thee to dwell,
My love and cottage near Rochelle.

Kate Kearney

O Did you not hear of Kate Kearney,
She lives on the banks of Killarney.
From the glance of her eye, shun danger and fly,
For fatal’s the glance of Kate Kearney.

For that eye is so modestly beaming,
You’d ne’er think of mischief she’s dreaming
Yet, oh! I can tell how fatal’s the spell,
That lurks in the eye of Kate Kearney.

O should you e’er meet this Kate Kearney,
Who lives on the banks of Killarney,
Beware of her smile, for many a wile,
Lies hid in the smile of Kate Kearney.

Though she looks so bewitchingly simple,
There’s mischief in every dimple;
And who dares inhale her mouth’s spicey gale
Must die by the breath of Kate Kearne