Dead leaves were falling Lone birds were calling Through sighing valleys A gentle fairwell Somebody’s straying Long was delaying Fond lips were meeting But whose, I’ll never tell Goodbye my own love For you alone, love My soul is pining In sunlight and in rain Though we are parted Don’t be sad hearted Winter will pass, love The birds will come again Sunlight and shadow Fell on the meadow Dew drops were gleaming The skies were bringing May Soft winds were playing Somebody’s straying Seemed very careless Of beauties on the way Once more my darling Robin and starling Sing down the valley Forgetting all their pain

King Death was a peerless fellow He sat where no sun can shine He lifted his hand so yellow And poured out the coal black wine There came to him many a maiden Whose eyes had forgot to shine And widows with grief over laden Begged for the coal black wine When will I be called to go? They say that heaven only knows The young have fun, but when the day is done There’s a cup for us all The scholar left all of his learning The poet left all of his mind The beauty left all of his blooming Tempted by coal black wine All came to the peerless fellow Who laughed till his eyes dropped brine And he gave them his hand so yellow And pledged them in death’s black wine

Come all you females pay attention While about some ugly deeds I’ll mention I will relate a sad disaster  Of Mr M the workhouse master  With Miss S- S- he did begin And in the parlour shooed her in Somethings wrong between you and me I was outside, I could not see There was Polly, Ann and Miss Nancy Called them all his little fancy Was so fond of pauper ladies Filled the place with bright eyed babies The workhouse master what a sinner Gave new boots to Mary Skinner "I must kiss you and taste your wares I’ve watched your legs whilst you cleaned stairs"  He’s done his work while he was able  On his desk and kitchen table His little eye sharp as a needle And gave the kids to the workhouse beadle  He went too far, was forced to strike it Said ‘they never screamed because they liked it’ "I’m a good man - do my work with ease Filled the nursery with employees"  To some young girls a man went round To square it up with twenty pounds Seduce poor girls and pay them off A noble man to call your boss Now a word between me and you What was the poor girls to do? With Mr M the amorous sinner Eat your breakfast or lose your dinner

Bright Light Burns in the window Of the tiny little house upon the hill Oh the lights will burn And the hearts will yearn Oh they always will ’Til i return For there’s only one mother I know she’s waiting still And she’ll always keep the light a burning Of the window of the house upon the hill

When Claude Duval was in New Gate thrown He carved his name on the dungeon stone Quoth a dubsman who stared on the wall You’ve carved your epitaph Claude Duval   Duval was hanged and the next who came On the self-same stone inscribed his name “Aha” quothed the dubsman, devilish glee “Tom Waters hangs on the triple tree”   Your name Written on the New Gate Stone Your name Written on the New Gate stone No one on earth cares for your soul Your name The stone lets the reaper know   Lay now in the dungeon, Captain Bew Rumbold and Whitney, the jolly crew All carved their names on the stone, and all Share the same brave fate of Claude Deval   Twenty highway men, blithe and bold Rattled their chains in the dungeon old All those fierce men turned to bone Who wrote their names on the New Gate stone

When Winter chains from shore to shore The waves in its icy fetters On rivers and lakes when labours o’er Maids, skate with your lovers On Winter’s eve, when your labour you leave Should a swain then advance and intreat you to dance Of your steps pray beware Of your falls pray take care Love calls you once, calls you twice, over the cracks of the ice And you dance on the frozen river The young Pauline with a lover one day On the ice-neath them both its spoken Their footing slipp’d on the frost they say And they vanished where the ice was broken And the very next spring When the frost was thawing Washed up on the shore Was the still paramore And his love, poor Pauline You may grasp what I mean Love called them once, called them twice, down through the cracks of the ice And they slept in the Frozen River

Come listen a while, a story I’ll tell About lasses of pleasure that nearby do dwell To tell our abode we are not ashamed You’ll find us at Yarmouth right down to the lane Says Phoebe to Phyllis “We’ll follow the game” Although we are told it will bring us to shame It’s hard to accept we’ll survive on our own Why shouldn’t the lasses make cash of their own? I can trust in my neighbours I can trust in my sisters When we’re down on our knees, with no-one to save us We can trust in our neighbours and sisters You’re welcome my gentlemen, pray now walk in We’re from half a crown to a noggin of gin We are not as stiff as the lasses in town When trading is dead the price must come down Old Colin, our favourite, a frolicsome spark With Phoebe he played one night in the dark He kissed her and hugged her and laid by her side The spirit it moved her, she got up to ride When our husbands come home and ask what we’ve done To look at those cuckholds there will be some fun We’ll plead for ourselves and make them believe Our locks have grown rusty for want of a key To Bridewell of late poor Phyllis was sent And there for a while she was forced to repent You have to admit that the whole thing’s a farce Can’t work with her hands, and can’t live by her charms

Tobacco is an Indian Weed Let the smoke curve high Grows Green in the morning, cut down in the eve Its shows our decay, we came from the clay Think of this when you're smoking Tobacco  The Pip that is so lily white In which most men take great delight It's broke with a touch, men's lives are as such Think of this when you're smoking Tobacco The pipe that is so foul within It shows men's lives are stained with sin For it doth require being cleansed by the fire Think of this when you're smoking Tobacco Dust that from the pipe doth fall It shows we are nothing but dust after all  For we came from the dust and return again, must Think of this when you're smoking Tobacco 

If you would wish your bees to thrive Gold must be paid for every hive For when they’re bought with other money There’ll be neither swarm nor honey When The first butterfly you see Oh cut off his head across your knee And bury the head under a stone And money will be your own As keeper he, when grandpa goes Then straight away, the bees must know At once go down and tell the news Or its pa and the bees we’ll lose Sent down to earth by Ra’s own eyes To deliver the messages from the skies Avoid the swarm when on its move Of God’s work you may disapprove If you would wish your bees to thrive You must pay gold for every hive For when exchanged for cash or pawn There’ll be neither comb nor swarm

John and James, at 45 George Street Made love on the hard wooden floor And William’s away to Van Diemen’s Land Because he played host to it all Did Johnny love James? And did James love his Johnny? Could you tell through the crack in the door? And is it worse to commit love or lust with another? Or watch it all through the crack in the door? The grave will soon close over me And my name - entirely forgotten But the ghosts of our love softly sleep on George Street Long after our bodies have rotten I loved you briefly at 45 George Street We were seen on the hard wooden floor The ways we have coped have been choked by their verdict And the world will be cured of us all Another version of me up wakes late there on George Street Like nothing strange happened at all Arrange to meet you again, then leave you to your sleeping Like nothing strange happened at all