OpenLLM-France/wikimedia huggingface dataset:
# The Canadian Soldiers' Song Book/Good-Bye-Ee!

72—GOOD-BYE-EE!
Good-bye-ee good-bye-ee! Wipe the tear, baby dear, from your eye-ee, Tho' it's hard to part I know, I'll be tickled to death to go, Dont cry-ee don't sigh-ee! There's a silver lining in the sky-ee, Bon-soir, old thing! cheerio! chin-chin! Nah-poo! Too-dle-oo Good-bye-ee! good-bye-ee.
# The Canadian Soldiers' Song Book/God Will Take Care of You

Published 1905 with music by Walter Stillman Martin.
147—GOD WILL TAKE CARE OF YOU
Be not dismayed whate'er betide, God will take care of you! Beneath His wings of love abide, God will take care of you!
Chorus
God will take care of you, Through every day, o'er all the way; He will take care of you; God will take care of you!
Through days of toil when heart doth fail, God will take care of you! When dangers fierce your path assail, God will take care of you!
All you may need He will provide, God will take care of you! Trust Him, and you will be satisfied, God will take care of you!
Lonely or sad, from friends apart, God will take care of you! He will give peace to your aching heart God will take care of you!
No matter what may be the test, God will take care of you! Lean, weary one, upon His breast, God will take care of you!
# The Canadian Soldiers' Song Book/Good-Bye

47—GOOD-BYE
Falling leaf, and fading tree, Lines of white in a sullen sea, Shadows rising on you and me, Shadows rising on you and me. The swallows are making them ready to fly, Wheeling out on a windy sky. Good-bye, Summer! Good-bye, Good-bye! Good-bye, Summer Good-bye, Good-bye!
Hush! a voice from the far-a-way! Listen and learn, it seems to say, All the to-morrows shall be as to-day, All the to-morrows shall be as to-day. The cord is frayed—the cruse is dry, The link must break, and the lamp must die. Good-bye to Hope! Good-bye, Good-bye! Good-bye to Hope! Good-bye, Good-bye!
What are we waiting for? Oh, my heart! Kiss me straight on the brow! And part! Again! Again! my heart! What are we waiting for, you and I? A pleading look—a stifled cry Good-bye, for ever! good-bye for ever! Good-bye, Good-bye, Good-bye!
# The Canadian Soldiers' Song Book/God Send You Back To Me

53—GOD SEND YOU BACK TO ME
God send you back to me, Over the mighty sea Dearest, I want you near. God dwells above you Knows how I love you, He will bring you back to me.
# The Army and Navy Hymnal/Hymns/Mine Eyes Have Seen the Glory

The tune is that of "Say, Brothers, Will You Meet Us", a traditional camp song attributed to Steffe.
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| 151 | Mine Eyes Have Seen the Glory |
| 151 | (BATTLE HYMN OF THE REPUBLIC. 15,15,15,6. With Refrain) |
| Julia Ward Howe, 1862 William Steffe, 1852 |||
| A musical score should appear at this position in the text. See Help:Sheet music for formatting instructions |||
* Mine eyes have seen the glory of the coming of the Lord; He is trampling out the vintage where the grapes of wrath are stored ; He hath loosed the fateful lightning of his terrible swift sword; His truth is marching on. Refrain Glory ! glory! Hallelujah! Glory ! glory! Hallelujah! His truth is marching on.
* I have seen him in the watch-fires of a hundred circling camps They have builded him an altar in the evening dews and damps ; I can read his righteous sentence by the dim and flaring lamps, His day is marching on. Refrain
* He has sounded forth the trumpet that shall nev er call retreat; He is sifting out the hearts of men before his judgment seat; O be swift, my soul, to answer him ; be jubilant, my feet! Our God is marching on. Refrain
* In the beauty of the lilies Christ was born across the sea, With a glory in his bosom that transfigures you and me; As he died to make men holy, let us die to make men free! While God is marching on. Refrain Amen
Mine Eyes Have Seen the Glory :
# The Army and Navy Hymnal/Hymns/Missions and World Peace

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* Angel of Peace
* Fling Out the Banner, Let It Float
* The Morning Light is Breaking
* Hail to the Brightness of Zion's Glad Morning
* Arm of the Lord, Awake
* Jesus Shall Reign Where'er the Sun
* Christ for the World We Sing
* It May Not Be on the Mountain's Height
# The Army and Navy Hymnal/Hymns/More Love to Thee, O Christ

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| | More Love to Thee, O Christ | 229 |
| | (MORE LOVE TO THEE 6, 4, 6, 4, 6, 6, 4) | 229 |
| Elizabeth P. Prentiss, 1869 W. Howard Doane, 1868 |||
| A musical score should appear at this position in the text. See Help:Sheet music for formatting instructions |||
* More love to thee, O Christ, More love to thee; Hear thou the prayer I make On bend - ed knee, This is my ear - nest plea, More love, O Christ, to thee, More love to thee, More love to thee
* Once earth - ly joy I craved, Sought peace and rest; Now thee a - lone I seek; Give what is best; This all my prayer shall be, More love, O Christ, to thee, More love to thee, More love to thee
* Let sor - row do its work, Send grief and pain; Sweet are thy mes - sen - gers, Sweet their re - frain, When they can sing with me, More love, O Christ, to thee, More love to thee, More love to thee
* Then shall my lat - est breath Whis - per thy praise; This be the part ing cry, My heart shall raise, This still its prayer shall be, More love, O Christ, to thee, More love to thee, More love to thee. A -men.
# The Army and Navy Hymnal/Hymns/Morning Worship

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* Our God, Our Help in Ages Past
* When Morning Gilds the Skies
* At Thy Feet, Our God and Father
* Holy, Holy, Holy, Lord God Almighty
* Still, Still with Thee
# The Army and Navy Hymnal/Hymns/My Faith Looks Up to Thee

Layout 2
| | My Faith Looks Up to Thee | 115 |
| | (OLIVET. 6,6,4,6,6,6,4) | 115 |
| Ray Palmer, 1830 Lowell Mason, 1832 |||
| A musical score should appear at this position in the text. See Help:Sheet music for formatting instructions |||
* My faith looks up to thee, Thou Lamb of Calvary, Saviour divine! Now hear me while I pray, Take all my guilt away, O let me from this day Be wholly thine,
* May thy rich grace impart Strength to my fainting heart, My zeal inspire; As thou hast died for me, O may my love to thee Pure, warm, and changeless be, A living fire,
* While life's dark maze I tread, And griefs around me spread, Be thou my Guide; Bid darkness turn to day, Wipe sorrow's tears a way, Nor let me ever stray From thee aside,
* When ends life's transient dream, When death's cold, sullen stream Shall o'er me roll ; Blest Saviour, then, in love, Fear and distrust remove ; O bear me safe above, A ransomed soul! Amen.
# The Army and Navy Hymnal/Hymns/My Jesus, as Thou Wilt

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| 114 | My Jesus, as Thou Wilt |
| 114 | (JEWETT. 6,6,6,6,D) |
| Benjamin Schmolck, 1704 Translated by Jane Borthwick, 1854 Carl M. von Weber, 1821 Arranged by Joseph P. Holbrook, 1862 |||
| A musical score should appear at this position in the text. See Help:Sheet music for formatting instructions |||
* My Jesus, as thou wilt! O may thy will be mine! Into thy hand of love I would my all resign Through sorrow, or through joy, Conduct me as thine own An help me still to say, My lord thy will be done.
* My Jesus,as thou wilt! Though seem through many a tear, Let not my star of hope Grow dim or disappear; Since thou on earth has wept, And sorrowed oft alone, If I must weep with thee, My lord thy will be done.
* My Jesus, as thou wilt! All shall be well for me; Each changing future scene I gladly trust with thee; Straight to my home above ! travel calmly on, And sing in life or death, My Lord, thy will be done. Amen.
# The Army and Navy Hymnal/Hymns/Metrical Index of Tunes

Layout 2
Metrical Index of Tunes
# The Army and Navy Hymnal/Hymns/More About Jesus I Would Know

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| | More About Jesus I Would Know | 225 |
| E. E. Hewitt John R. Sweney |||
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* More a-bout Je - sus I would know. More of his grace to oth - ers sh More of his sav- ing full-ness see, More of his love who died for me. More, more a - bout Je - sus; More, more a - bout Je sus;
* More a-bout Je -sus let me learn, More of his ho - ly will dis-cern; Spir - it of God, my teach-er be, Show-ing the things of Christ to me. More, more a - bout Je - sus; &c.
* More a-bout Je -sus ; in his word, Hold - ing com-mun - ion with my Lord, Hear-ing his voice in ev- ery line, Mak - ing each faithful say ing mine.
* More, more a - bout Je - sus; &c.
* More a-bout Je - sus; on his throne, Rich - es in glo - ry all his own; More of his kingdom's sure increase ; More of his com- ing, Prince of Peace. More, more a - bout Je - sus; More, more a - bout Je sus; More of his sav -ing full-ness More of his love who :died for me A-Men
# The Army and Navy Hymnal/Hymns/My Country, 'Tis of Thee

The tune, identified as "America", is the tune of "God Save the Queen".
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| 158 | My Country, 'Tis of Thee' |
| 158 | (AMERICA 6,6,4,6,6,6,4) |
| Samuel F. Smith, 1832 Hery Carey, 1740 |||
| A musical score should appear at this position in the text. See Help:Sheet music for formatting instructions |||
* My country, 'tis of thee, Sweet land of liberty, Of thee I sing; Land where my fathers died, Land of the pilgrim's pride, From every mountain side Let freedom ring!
* My native country, thee, Land of the noble free, Thy name I love; I love thy rocks and rills, Thy woods and templed hills; My heart with rapture thrills, Like that above.
* Let music swell the breeze, And ring from all the trees Sweet freedom's song; Let mortal tongues awake; Let all that breathe partake; Let rocks their silence break, The sound prolong.
* Our fathers' God, to thee, Author of liberty, To thee we sing; Long may our land be bright With freedom's holy light; Protect us by thy might, Great God, our King. Amen.
# The Army and Navy Hymnal/Hymns/My God, Accept My Heart This Day

| 78 | My God, Accept My Heart This Day |
| 78 | (EVAN ) |
* My God, accept my heart this day, And make it always thine; That I from thee no more may stray, No more from thee decline.
* Before the cross of him who died, Behold, I prostrate fall; Let every sin be crucified, Let Christ be All in All.
* Let every thought, and work, and word, To thee be ever given; Then life shall be thy service, Lord, And death the gate of heaven. Matthew Bridges, 1800
# The Book of Scottish Song/Bonnie Prince Charlie

Bonnie Prince Charlie.
[Written by James Hogg. Composed and arranged for the Piano Forte by N. Gow, jun.]
Cam' ye by Athol, lad wi' the philabeg, Down by the Tummel, or banks of the Gary? Saw ye our lads, wi' their bonnets an' while cockades, Leaving their mountains to follow Prince Charlie? Follow thee, follow thee, wha wadna follow thee? Lang hast thou loved and trusted us fairly! Charlie, Charlie, wha wadna follow thee? King of the Highland hearts, bonnie Prince Charlie.
I ha'e but ae son, my brave young Donald; But if I had ten they should follow Glengarry; Health to M'Donald and gallant Clan-Ronald, For these are the men that will die for their Charlie. Follow thee, follow thee, &c.
I'll to Lochiel and Appin, and kneel to them; Down by Lord Murray and Koy of Kildarlie; Brave Mackintosh he shall fly to the field wi' them; They are the lads I can trust wi' my Charlie. Follow thee, follow thee, &c.
Down through the Lowlands, down wi' the whigamore, Loyal true Highlanders, down with them rarely; Ronald and Donald drive on wi' the braid claymore, Over the necks of the foes of Prince Charlie. Follow thee, follow thee, &c.
# The Book of Scottish Song/Bonnie lassie

Bonnie lassie.
[Robert Allan.]
Bonnie lassie, blythsome lassie, Sweet's the sparkling o' your e'e; Aye sae wyling, aye beguiling, Ye ha'e stown my heart frae me.
Fondly wooing, fondly sueing, Let me love, nor love in vain Fate shall never fond hearts sever, Hearts still bound by true love's chain.
Fancy dreaming, hope bright beaming, Shall each day life's feast renew; Ours the treasure, ours the pleasure, Still to live and love more true.
Mirth and folly, joys unholy, Never shall our thoughts employ; Smiles inviting, hearts uniting, Love and bliss without alloy.
Bonnie lassie, blythsome lassie, Sweet's the sparkling o' your e'e; Aye sae wyling, aye beguiling, Ye ha'e stown my heart frae me.
# The Book of Scottish Song/Bonny Mary

Bonny Mary.
[William Wilson.]
When the sun gaes down, when the sun gaes down, I'll meet thee, bonnie Mary, when the sun gaes down; I'll row my apron up, an' I'll leave the reeky town, And meet thee by the burnie when the sun gaesdown.
By the burnie there's a bower, we will gently lean us there, An' forget in ithers arms every earthly care, For the chiefest o' my joys in this weary mortal roun', Is the burnside wi' Mary when the sun gaes down. When the sun gaes down, &c.
There the ruin'd castle tower on the distant steep appears Like a hoary auld warrior faded with years; An' the burnie, stealin' by wi' a fairy silver soun', Will soothe us wi' its music when the sun gaes down. When the sun gaes down, &c.
The burnside is sweet when the dew is on the flower, But 'tis like a little heaven at the trystin' hour! An' with pity I would look on the king who wears the crown, When wi' thee by the burnie, when the sun gaes down. When the sun gaes down, &c.
When the sun gaes down, when the sun gaes down, I'll meet thee by the burnie, when the sun gaes down; Come in thy petticoatic, and thy little drugget gown. And I'll meet thee, bonnie Mary, when the sun gaes down.
# The Book of Scottish Song/Border Song

Border Song.
[W. A. Foster.—Here first printed.]
Come listen now, ladies,—it winna be lang, While I sing you a cannie Northumberland sang; It will tell you o' sports that have lang been my pride, And the games we've been haddin' in bonnie Till side; There 's few keener o' them,—come tell me o' ane,— For thrawing the hammer, or putting the stane.
The Cheviot bred lads may beat us for speed; And the prize for the jumping may gang to the Tweed; The quoits to the town, and the race to the hill; But there's something we'll keep on the banks of the Till: Two prizes there are,— I will yield them to nane— The thrawing the hammer and putting the stane. ​John Cole, wi' his rifle, may beat us, I trow; William Foster now sticks to his arrow and bow; Let them come frae the Beaumont and Tweed to the Till, We'll match them for something at Auld Heaton Mill: Ay, sirs, look and see—a' these medals were ta'en, By thrawing the hammer and putting the stane.
Etal, Crookham, and Ford, have na seen sic a day, Since the trumpet's blast raised them for Flodden's affray, But a bard of renown has that battle-field sung; And I tell o' the games in my ain mother tongue: We like sport but nae fighting,—just let us alane, When thrawing the hammer and putting the stane.
The feuds on the Borders nae langer run fierce; Northumberland kindly shakes hands wi' the Merse: Baith sides o' the Tweed—and a cheer for the games, And good health to the victors, whatever their claims, And lang may the Border lads flourish and reign, At thrawing the hammer and putting the stane.
# The Book of Scottish Song/Braxfield Braes

Braxfield Braes.
[From a collection of the last century.]
On Braxfield Braes, amang the broom, How happie ha'e I been! When June gard a' the meadows blume, And clad the woods in green.
Owre Gallitudlum to the burn How mirrie did I rove! My steps by pleasant Clyde to turn, Or sit in Willie's cove.
To catch the menon or the eel Wi' artless hook I tried; Then owr the beuchs and craigs to speel Wi' eager haste I hied.
Syne ran the linties nest to see, Or plaie at penny stane, Ah, days of youth, how sweet are ye! But ye ne'er cum again!
# The Book of Scottish Song/Bring a' your maut

Bring a’ your maut.
[The opening verse, at least, of this song is old, as it occurs in a manuscript of the seventeenth century, which at one time belonged to Mr. Constable, the eminent Edinburgh bookseller. The other verses are probably also of some antiquity, although they cannot be traced in any of the early collections. They are given by Mr. R. Chambers from oral tradition. "The Maltman" is the name of a song to be found in Ramsay's Tea Table Miscellany, written by Ramsay himself, after an ancient ditty, but too deeply imbued with the license of old times to admit of extract here.]
Bring a' your maut to me, Bring a' your maut to me; My draff ye'se get for ae pund ane, Though a' my deukies should dee.
Some say that kissing 's a sin, But I think it's nane ava, For kissing has wonn'd in this warld, Since ever that there was twa.
O, if it wasna lawfu', Lawyers wadna allow it; If it was na holy, Ministers wadna do it.
If it wasna modest, Maidens wadna tak' it; If it wasna plenty, Puir folk wadna get it!
# The Book of Scottish Song/Broad Swords of Scotland

Broad Swords of Scotland.
[Written by J. G. Lockhart, to the tune of "Oh, the Roast Beef of Old England," and first published in 1822, in George Thomson's collection, and here inserted by special permission.]
Now there's peace on the shore, now there's calm on the sea, Fill a glass to the heroes whose swords kept us free, Right descendants of Wallace, Montrose, and Dundee. Oh, the broadswords of old Scotland! And oh, the old Scottish broadswords.
Old Sir Ralph Abereromby, the good and the brave— Let him flee from our board, let him sleep with the slave, Whose libation comes slow while we honour his grave. Oh, the broadswords, &c.
Though he died not like him amid victory's roar, Though disaster and gloom wove his shroud on the shore, Not the less we remember the spirit of Moore. Oh, the broadswords, &c.
Yea, a place with the fallen the living shall claim, We'll entwine in one wreath every glorious name, The Gordon, the Ramsay, the Hope, and the Graham, All the broadswords, &c.
Count the rocks of the Spey, count the groves of the Forth, Count the stars in the clear cloudless heaven of the north, Then go blazon their numbers, their names, and their worth, All the broadswords, &c.
The highest in splendour, the humblest in place, Stand united in glory, as kindred in race, For the private is brother in blood to his grace. Oh, the broadswords, &c.
Then sacred to each and to all let it be, Fill a glass to the heroes whose swords kept us free, Right descendants of Wallace, Montrose and Dundee, Oh, the broadswords of Old Scotland! And oh, the old Scottish broadswords!
# The Book of Scottish Song/Bothwell Bank

Bothwell Bank.
[This was first published in John Pinkerton's "Select Scottish Ballads, London, 1773," where it is given as an old production, but it was in reality the composition of Pinkerton himself. Pinkerton, though a very unscrupulous writer, distinguished himself by his antiquarian researches into the history of his country. He was born at Edinburgh in 1758, and died at Paris in 1825.—"In proof of the antiquity of at least the air to which this song is sung" says Mr. Robert Chambers, "and of its beautiful owerword, or burden, a story has been quoted from a work entitled 'Verstegan's Restitution of Decayed Intelligence,' which was printed at Amsterdam in the year 1605. In journeying through Palestine, at some period even then remote, a Scotsman saw a female at the door of a house lulling her child to the air of Bothwell Bank. Surprise and rapture took simultaneous possession of his breast, and he immediately accosted the fair singer. She turned out to be a native of Scotland, who, having wandered thither, was married to a Turk of rank, and who still, though far removed from her native land, frequently reverted to it in thought, and occasionally called up its image by chanting the ditties in which its banks and braes, its woods and streams, were so freshly and so endearingly delineated. She introduced the traveller to her husband, whose influence in the country was eventually of much service to him; an advantage which he could never have enjoyed, had not Bothwell Bank bloomed fair to a poet's eye, and been the scene of some passion not less tender than unfortunate. The bank itself, which has thus attracted so much honourable notice, is a beautifully wooded piece of ground, descending in a steep semicircular sweep from the foundations of Bothwell Castle (Lanarkshire) to the brink of the Clyde, which is there a river of noble breadth. Being situated at the distance of about eight or nine miles above Glasgow, it is a frequent summer Sunday resort for the lads and lasses of that city, the most cotton-spinning of whom cannot help enjoying the loveliness of the scene, set off as it is, in so peculiar a manner, by poetical association. It is the property of Lord Douglas; forming, indeed, part of the finely wooded park which surrounds his lordship's seat of Bothwell."]
On the blythe Beltane, as I went By mysel' attour the green bent, Whereby the glancin' waves of Clyde, Throch sauchs and hangin' hazels glide: There, sadly sittin' on a brae, I heard a damsel speak her wae.
"Oh, Bothwell Bank, thou blumest fair, But, oh, thou mak's my heart fu' sair! For a' beneth thy holts sae green My luve and I wad sit at e'en; While primroses and daisies, mixt Wi' blue bells, in my locks he fixt.
"But he left me ae dreary day, And haply now lies in the clay, Without ae sich his death to roun', Without ae flowir his grave to croun! Oh, Bothwell Bank, thou blumest fair, But, oh, thou mak's my heart fu' sair."
# The Black-Bird Songster/Get Up and Bar the Door

GET UP AND BAR THE DOOR.
There dwalt a man on Crawford moor, And John Blunt was his name ; He made gude maut, aud brew'd gude ale, And bore a wondrous fame. Now it fell upon a Martinmas time, And a gay time it was than, That Johnie's wife had puddings to make, And she boil'd them in the pan.
The wind swept cauld frae north to south, And blew into the floor; Quoth our gudeman to our gudewife, Get up and bar the door. My hand is in my husewife-cap, Gudeman as ye may see; If its no barr'd this hunder year, It's no be barr'd by me.
They made a paction 'tween them twa, A paction firm and sure, Whoever spoke the foremost word, Should rise and bar the door. Twa travellers had tint their gate, As o'er the hills they foor, ​And airted by the line o' light, Made straight to Johnnie's door.
Now whether is this a rich man's house, Or whether is it a poor? But ne'er a word wad ane o' them speak, For the barring of the door. And first they ate the white puddings, And syne they ato the black: O muckle thought our gudewife to herse But ne'er a word she spake.
The young ane to the auld ane said, Here, man, take ye my knife, And gang and shave the gudeman's board, While I kiss the gudewife. But there's nae water in the house, And what shall I do than?— What ails ye at the pudding broo, That's simmering in the pan?
O, up then started our gudeman, An angry man was he— Will ye kiss my wife afore my face, And scaud me wi' pudding bree, An' up an' started our gudewife, Gae three skips o'er the floor, Gudeman, ye've spoke the foremost word, Get up and bar the door
This work was published before January 1, 1929, and is in the public domain worldwide because the author died at least 100 years ago.
Public domainPublic domainfalsefalse
# The Black-Bird Songster/Logan Water

LOGAN WATER.
O Logan, sweetly didst thou glide, That day I was my Willie's bride: And years sinsyne hae o'er us run, Like Logan to the summer sun. But now thy flow'ry banks appear Like drumlie winter, dark and drear, While my dear lad maun face his faes, Far far frae me and Logan braes.
Again the merry month of May, Has mado our hills and valleys gay,
The birds rejoice in leafy bowers, Tho bees hum round the breathing flowers Blythe morning lifts his rosy eye, And evoning tears are tears of joy; My soul, delightless, a' surveys, Whilo Willie's far frae Lóoan braes.
Within yon milk-white hawthorn bush, Amang her nestlings sits tho thrush, Her faithfu' mate will sharo her toil, Or wi' his song her cares beguile;
But I wi' my sweet nurslings here, Nae mate to help, nae mate to cheer, Pass widow'd nights and joyless days, While Willie's far frae Logan braes.
O, wao upon you men o'state, That brethren rouse to deadly hate! As yo make mony a fond heart mourn, Sae may it on your heads return. ​How can your flinty hearts enjoy,
The widow's tear, the orphan's cry?
But soon may peaco bring happy days, And Willio hame to Logan braes!
This work was published before January 1, 1929, and is in the public domain worldwide because the author died at least 100 years ago.
Public domainPublic domainfalsefalse