The Slane's Appeal.

WORDS ORIGINAL.

Over the mountain, and over the moor,
Comes the sad wailing of many a poor slave;
The father, the mother, and children are poor,
And they grieve for the day their freedom to have.
Pity, kind gentlemen, friends of humanity,

Čold is the world to the cries of God's poor,
Give us our freedom, ye friends of equality,
Give us our rights, for we ask nothing more.

Call us not indolent, vile and degraded,

White men have robbed us of all we hold dear;
Parents and children, the young and the aged,
Are scourged by the lash of the rough overseer.
Pity, kind gentlemen, &c.

And God in his mercy shall crown your endeavors,
The glory of heaven shall be your reward;
The promise of Jesus to you shall be given,

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Enter, ye faithful, the joy of our Lord."

Then pity, kind gentlemen, &c.

Che Miseries of Life.

I've mused on the miseries of life,
To find from what quarter they come;
Whence most of contention and strife,
Alas! from the lovers of rum.

Oh, Rum! what hast thou done,

Ruined mother and daughter, father and son.

I met with a fair one distressed,

I asked whence her sorrows could come,

She replied, I am sorely oppressed,

My husband's a lover of rum.

Oh, Rum, &c.

I found a poor child in the street,

Whose limbs by the cold were all numb,

No stockings nor shoes on his feet-
His father's a lover of rum.

Oh, Rum, &c.

I've seen men from health, wealth, and ease,
Untimely descend to the tomb;

I need not describe their disease-
Alas! they were lovers of rum.
Oh, Rum, &c.

Ask prisons and gallows, and all,

Whence most of their customers come,
From whom they have most of their calls,
They'll tell you from the lovers of rum.
Oh, Rum, &c.

Let us Love one Another.

Let us love one another,
Not long may we stay

In this bleak world of mourning

Some droop while 'tis day,
Others fade in the noon,

And few linger till eve,

Oh there breaks not a heart

But leaves some one to grieve.

The fondest, the purest, the truest that met,

Have still found the need to forgive and forget,-
Then oh! though the hopes that we nourished decay,

Let us love one another as long as we stay.

Then let's love one another,

'Mid sorrow the worst,

Unaltered and fond

As we loved at the first,

Though the false wing of pleasure

May change and forsake,

And the bright urn of wealth

Into particles break

There are some sweet affections that wealth cannot buy,

That cling but still closer, as sorrow draws nigh,

And remain with us yet though all else pass away,

Then let's love one another as long as we stay.

Springfield Mountains.

(As sung in the old fashioned Continental style.)

On Springfield mountains there did dwell
A comely youth, I lov'd full well.
Ri tu di na, &c.

One Monday mornin' he did go,
Down in the mead-er for to mow.
Ri tu di na, &c.

He scarce had mowed half the field,
When a pesky sarpint bit his heel.
Ri tu di na, &c.

He took his scythe, and with a blow,
He laid the pesky sarpint low.
Ri tu di na, &c.

He took the sarpint in his hand,
And straightway went to MOLLY BLAND.
Ri tu di na, &c.

"Q! Molly! Molly! here you see,
The pesky sarpint what bit me."
Ri tu di na, &c.

Away Down East.

(By permission of the publisher, Oliver Ditson.)

There's a famous fabled country, never seen by mortal eyes,
Where the pumpkins they are growing, and the sun is said to rise,
Which man doth not inhabit, neither reptile, bird nor beast,
And this famous fabled country is away Down East.

It is called a land of notions, of apple-sauce and greens,
A paradise of pumpkin pies, a land of pork and beans,
But where it is, who knoweth? neither mortal man nor beast,
But one thing we're assured of-'tis away Down East.

Once a man in Indiana, took his bundle in his hand,
And came to New York city, to seek this fabled land,
But how he stared on learning what is new to him at least,
That this famous fabled land is further Down East.

Then away he puts to Boston, with all his main and might,
And puts up at the Tremont House, quite sure that he was right,
But they tell him in the morning, a curious fact at least,
That he hadn't yet begun to get away Down East.

Then he hurried off to Portland, with his bundle in his hand,
And sees Mount Joy, great joy for him, for this must be the land,
Poh, man, you're crazy! for doubt not in the least,
You go a long chalk further e'er you find Down East.

Then away through mud to Bangor, by which he soils his drabs,
The first that greets his vision, is a pyramid of slabs;
Why, this, says he, is Egypt, here's a pyramid at least,

And he thought that with a vengeance he had found Down East.
Goodness, gracious! yes, he's found it! see how he cuts his pranks,
He's sure he can't get further, for the piles of boards and planks;
So pompously he questions, a Pat of humble caste,
Who tells him he was never yate away Down Aist.

But soon he spied a Native, who was up to snuff, I ween

Who, pointing at a precipice, says, don't you see something green?
Then off he jumped to rise no more, except he lives on yeast,
And this, I think, should be his drink away Down East.

And now his anxious mother, whose tears will ever run,
Is ever on the lookout to see her rising son,
But she will strain her eyes in vain, I calculate at least,
Her son has set in regions wet away Down East.

The Old Eranite State.

A FAMILY SONG OF THE HUTCHINSONS.

(New Version,)

AS SUNG BY THE BAND OF BROTHERS, IN THE YEAR 1851.

Ho! we've come from the mountains,
Come again from the mountains,
We've come down from the mountains,
Of the old Granite State.

We're a band of brothers,

We're a band of brothers,

We're a band of brothers,

And we live among the hills;

With a band of music,

With a band of music,

With a band of music,

We are passing round the world.