Historic Sheet Music Collection


Charles Jarvis

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The Elssler Quadrilles
Arranged by Charles Jarvis, and respectfully dedicated to Miss Helen M. Colton

La cracovienne -- La tarentule -- La Smolenska -- La sylphide -- El jaleo de jeres -- Fanny Grey : a ballad of real life / written and composed by the Hon. Mrs. Norton -- Mountain quick-step / composed expressly for this work, and respectfully dedicated to Joshua M. Miller, Esq. of Baltimore, by M. Wiesel -- Lady waltz / composed expressly for this work by La Plume -- Rory O'Moore : a favourite ballad sung by Mr. Power / written and adapted to an Irish melody by Samuel Lover -- The orphan ballad-singers : a ballad / composed by Henry Russell -- Do none remember me / written by T. H. Bayly, Esq., the music composed expressly for this work, and respectfully dedicated to Miss Rebecca M. Gaskill, by Charles Jarvis -- Prince Albert's band march / composed by Stephen Glover.

Publisher not identified.

Some of the resources may contain offensive language or negative stereotypes. Such materials should be seen in the context of the time period and as a reflection of attitudes of the time. The items are part of the historical record, and do not represent the views of the libraries or the institution.


Fanny Grey. A ballad of real life.

Well, well, Sir! so you're come at last!
I thought you'd come no more:
I've waited, with my bonnet on,
from one till half-past four!
You know I hate to sit alone,
unsettled where to go:
You'll break my heart - I feel you will if you continue so!
You'll break my heart - I feel you will if you continue so!

Now pray, my love, put by that frown,
and don't begin to scold!
You really will persuade me soon
you're growing cross and old.
I only stopp'd at Grosv'nor gate,
young Fanny's eye to catch:
I won't, I swear I won't
be made to keep time like a watch!
I won't, I swear I won't be made to keep time like a watch!

It took you, then, two hours to bow?
Two hours! Take off your hat;
I wish you'd bow that way to me;
and apropos of that,
I saw you making love to her (You see I know it all!)
I saw you making love to her, at Lady Glossop's ball!

Now really, Jane, your temper is so very odd today!
You jealous, and of such a girl as little Fanny Grey!
Make love to her! Indeed, my dear,
You could see no such thing:
I sat a minute by her side, to see a turquoise ring!

I tell you that I saw it all, the whisp'ring ring and grimace,
The flirting and coquetting, in her little foolish face,
Oh! Charles, I wonder that the earth don't open, where you stand-
By the heav'n that is above us both, I saw you kiss her hand!

I didn't love! Or if I did, allowing that 'tis true,
When a pretty woman shows her rings, what can a poor man do?
My life, my soul, my darling Jane! I love but you alone,
I never thought of Fanny Grey (How tiresome she's grown!)

Put down your hat, don't take your stick!
Now prithee, Charles, do stay!
You never come to see me now, but you long to run away;
There was a time, there was a time, you never wish'd to go-
What have I done, what have I done, dear Charles, to change you so?

Pooh, pooh, my love! I am not changed- but dinner is at eight;
And my father's so particular, he never likes to wait;
Good bye! Good bye! You'll come again?
Yes, one of these fine days!
He's turn'd the street - I knew he would- He's gone to Fanny Grey's!

The Moonlit Dell

Hark! hark! the fairy melody
Softly pealing, softly pealing,
O'er the woodland, o'er the lear,
So gently on us stealing.
Come let us forth beneath the moon,
To view the scene so merry,
And hasten, or they'll all be gone,
If we should linger tarry;
Then let us seek the moonlit dell,
Softly stepping, softly stepping,
Not a breath must break the spell
That all the world is keeping,
All the world is keeping.

See! see, they come - the elfin train,
Tripping lightly, tripping lightly,
On the soft and velvet green,
While stars are shining brightly;
Not a sound must now betray
That mortals near them hover,
A breath would fright the elves away,
If they our forms discover.
Then let us seek, &c.

The morning dawns- but ere thelight
Gently breaking, gently breaking,
Through the darkling shades of night,
The woodland songsters waking,
The dance is o'er - the elves have fled,
Yet still afar are stealin
Sweet strains from every mossy bed,
Their hiding-place revealing;
Then let us quit the lonely dell,
They are sleeping - they are sleeping,
Morn hath broke the magic spell
That all the earth was keeping.

Rory O'Moore

Young Rory O'Moore courted Kathleen O'Bawn,
He was bold as a hawk, and she soft as the dawn
He wish'd in his heart pretty Kathleen to please,
And he thought the best way to do that was to teaze;
Now Rory be aisy, sweet Kathleen would cry,
Reproof on her lip, but a smile in her eye,
With your tricks I don't know, in troth, what I'm about,
Faith you've teazed till I've put on my cloak inside out.
Oh! jewel, says Rory, that same is the way
You've thrated my heart for this many a day,
And 'tis plazed that I am, and why not to be sure?
For 'tis all for good luck, says bold Rory O'Moore.

Indeed then, says Kathleen, don't think of the like,
For I half gave a promise to Soothering MIke,
The ground that I walk on he loves, I'll be bound,
Faith, says Rory, I'd rather love you than the ground,
Now, Rory, I'll cry if you don't let me go,
Sure I dream every night that I'm hating you so!
Oh! says Rory, that same I'm delighted to hear,
For dhrames always go by conthrairies my dear;
Oh! Jewel, keep dreaming that same till you die,
And bright morning will give dirty night the black lie,
And 'tis plazed that I am, and why not to be sure?
Since 'tis all for good luck, says bold Rory O'Moore.

Arrah Kathleen, my darlint you've teazed me enough,
And I've thrash'd for your sake Dinny Grimes and Jim Dugg,
And I've made myself drinking your health quite a baste,
So I think, after that, I may talk to the priest;
They Rory, the rogue, stole his arm round her neck,
So soft and so white, without freckle or speck,
And he look'd in her eyes that were beaming with light,
And he kiss'd her sweet lips- don't you think he was right?
Now Rory leave off, Sir - you'll hug me no more,
That's eight times today that you've kiss'd me before;
Then here goes another, says he, to make sure,
For there's luck in odd numbers, says Rory O'Moore.

The Orphan Ballad Singers

Oh weary weary are our feet,
And weary weary is our way,
Through many a long and crowded street
We've wander'd mournfully today;
My little sister she is pale,
She is too tender and too young
To bear the autumn's sullen gale,
And all day long the child has sung.

She was our mother's favourite chld,
Who loved her for her eyes of blue,
And she is delicate and mile,
She cannot do what I can do.
She never met her father's eyes,
Although they were so like her own;
In some far distant sea he lies,
A father to his child unknown.

The first time that she lisp'd his name,
A little playful thing was she:
How proud we were- yet that night came
The tale how he had sunk at sea.
My mother never raised her head;
How strange, how white, how cold she grew!
It was a broken heart they said-
I wish our hearts were broken too.

We have no home- we have no friends,
They said our home no more was ours,
Our cottage where the ash-tree bends,
The garden we had fill'd with flowers.
The sounding shells our father brought,
That we might hear the sea at home;
Our bees, that in the summer wrought
The winter's golden honeycomb.

We wander'd forth mid wind and rain,
No shelter from the open sky;
I only wish to see again
My mother's grave, and rest, and die.
Alas, it is a weary thing
To sing our ballads o'er and o'er;
The songs we used at home to sing-
Alas! we have a home no more!

Do None Remember Me

It was a Sabbath morn,
The bell had chimed for church;
And the young and gay were gathering
Around the rustic porch,
There came an aged man,
In a soldier's garb was he
And gazing round the group, he cried, "Do none remember me?"
And gazing round the group, he cried, "Do none remember me?"

The veteran forgot
his friends were changed or gone,
The manly forms around him ther
As children he had known.
He pointed to the spot
Where his dwelling used to be,
Then told his name, and smiling said,
"You now remember me."

Alas! none knew him there;
He pointed to a stone
On which the name he breathed was traced,
A name to them unknown.
And then the old man wept,
"I am friendless now," cried he,
"Where I had many friends in youth,
Not one remembers me."



The views expressed in this paper are solely those of the author.