OpenLLM-France/wikimedia huggingface dataset:
# A Year Off

Published in Beyond the Wall of Sleep. Written in 1925.
A Year Off
Had I a year to idle through, With cash to waste and no restriction, I’d plan a programme to outdo The wildest feats of travel fiction.
On steamship guides I’d slake my thirst, And railway maps would make me wiser— America consider’d first To please the local advertiser.
O’er England and the Continent I’d chart a course to shame the sages, In each cathedral town intent To catch the colour of the ages.
Paris and Rome I would not miss; Without the Rhine I’d be no planner, For one must make a jaunt like this A Grand Tour in the ancient manner!
But Europe is a trifle trite, So I would spare no pains in learning How best to scan in casual flight The East, where sheiks and sands are burning.
I’d look up ferries on the Nile, And ’bus fares for the trip to Mecca;
Have chemists test in proper style The drinking-fountain of Rebecca.
The route of ev’ry Tigris barge I’d note, and find how much they’d ask us; What good hotels in Bagdad charge, And yellow taxis in Damascus.
And I would surely have on hand The folders of that great excursion, The Golden Road to Samarkand, Thro Bahai bow’rs and gardens Persian.
Beyond, the Pullman rates I’d get For Kiao-chau and Yokohama, Arranging passage thro’ Thibet To dally with the Dalai Lama.
In tropic isles I’d plan to stay Till South Sea melodies would bore me, And for the North Pole book a day, Where only Peary went before me.
Thus might I scheme—till in the end The year would slip away unheeded, My money safe with me to spend, And the wild outing scarcely needed!
July 24, 1925
This work is in the public domain in the United States because it was legally published within the United States (or the United Nations Headquarters in New York subject to Section 7 of the United States Headquarters Agreement) before 1964, and copyright was not renewed.
* For Class A renewal records (books only) published between 1923 and 1963, check the Stanford University Copyright Renewal Database.
* For other renewal records of publications between 1922–1950, see the University of Pennsylvania copyright records.
* For all records since 1978, search the U.S. Copyright Office records.
Works published in 1943 could have had their copyright renewed in 1970 or 1971, i.e. between January 1st of the 27th year after publication or registration and December 31st of the 28th year. As this work's copyright was not renewed, it entered the public domain on January 1st, 1972.
The longest-living author of this work died in 1937, so this work is in the public domain in countries and areas where the copyright term is the author's life plus 86 years or less. This work may be in the public domain in countries and areas with longer native copyright terms that apply the rule of the shorter term to foreign works.
It is imperative that contributors ascertain that there is no evidence of a copyright renewal before using this license. Failure to do so will result in the deletion of the work as a copyright violation.
Public domainPublic domainfalsefalse
# The Arethusa/Ere Around the Huge Oak

ERE AROUND THE HUGE OAK.
# The New Student's Reference Work/Foster, Stephen Collins

See also Stephen Collins Foster on Wikipedia, and the disclaimer.
Fos′ter, Stephen Collins, an American song-writer, was born at Pittsburg, Pa., in 1826. His compositions number 125, nearly a fourth being negro melodies. The best-known productions are Old Folks at Home, Come where my Love Lies Dreaming, Uncle Ned, Old Dog Tray and Old Kentucky Home. He died at New York on Jan. 13, 1864.
# Crazy Jane (n.d.)

Crazy Jane;
To which is added,
Ere around the huge ⟨oak⟩,
My friend & pitcher,
The light of the moon,
Let's be jovial.
EDINBURGH:
Printed for the Booksellers in Town and Country
* Crazy Jane
* Ere Around the Huge Oak
* My Friend and Pitcher
* The Light of the Moon
* Let's be Jovial
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
# Crazy Jane (n.d.)/Ere Around the Huge Oak

ERE AROUND THE HUGE OAK
Ere around the huge oak, that o’ershadows yon mill The fond ivy had dar’d to entwine; Ere the church was a ruin, that nods on the hill, Or a rook built its nest on the pine. Could I trace back the time to a far distant date, Since my forefather’s toil’d in this field; And the farm I now hold on your honour’s estate, Is the same that my grandfather toil’d.
Ho, dying, bequeath'd to his son a good name.
​Which unsullied descended to me; For my child I've preserv'd it, unblemish’d by shame And it still from a spot shall be free.
# Crazy Jane (n.d.)/Crazy Jane

CRAZY JANE.
Why, fair maid, in every feature, Are ⟨such signs⟩ of fear exprest? Can a wandering, wretched creature, With such terror fill thy breast? Do my frenzie⟨d⟩ looks alarm thee? Trust me sweet, thy fears are vain: Not for kingdom would I harm thee: Shun not then poor Crazy Jane.
Dost thou weep to see my anguish? Mark me and avoid my wo; When men flatter sigh and languish, Think them false,———I found them so. For I lov’d oh so sincerely, None could ever love again, But the youth I lov’d so dearly Stole the wits of Crazy Jane.
Fondly my young heart received him, Which was doom’d to love but one; He sigh’d he vow’d and I believ’d him, He was false, and I undone.
​From that hour has reason never Held her empire o’er my brain, Henry fled, with him for ever Fled the wits of Crazy Jane.
Now forlorn and broken-hearted, And with frenzied thoughts beset On that spot where last we parted, On that spot where first we met, Still I sing my love-lorn ditty, Still I slowly pace the plain, While each passer by, in pity, Cries, God help thee, Crazy Jane.
# Crazy Jane (n.d.)/My Friend and Pitcher

MY FRIEND AND PITCHER.
The wealthy fool, with gold in store, Will still desire to grow richer; Give me but these, I ask no more, My charming girl, my friend and pitcher, My friend so rare my girl so fair, With such what mortal can be richer; Give me but these, a fig for care, With my sweet girl, my friend and pitcher.
From morning sun I'd never grieve, To toil, a hedger or a ditcher, If that when l come home at eve, I might enjoy my friend and pitcher. My friend so rare, &c.
Tho' fortune ever shuns my door, I know not what can thus bewitch her. With all my heart can I be poor, With my sweet girl, my friend and pitcher.
# Crazy Jane (n.d.)/The Light of the Moon

THE LIGHT OF THE MOON.
It happened on a summer's evening, In the merry month of May Just as I had quit my weaving, Through the groves I chance to stray. And there I met with lovely Sally, Blooming like a rose in June; But I did not wait long time to dally, Until I kiss'd my love by the light of the moon.
Thou fairest of the soft creation, While I enjoy these happy hours, Be not shy unto me, Sally, For I have thee in my power; Then I clasp'd her in my arms, Like unto the flowers in bloom: I did not wait long time to dally, Until I kiss’d my love by the light of the moon.
Then I led her to a bed of roses, While she cried, young man forbear, Do not hurt me, she cry'd Johnny, Or I will tear you by the hair For don’t you see my cloth's a tearing, My handsome cap and new baloon;
​The more she grumbled the more I press’d her, And I kiss’d her well by the light of the moon.
Then I lifted her by the hand, While she gave a heavy sigh, She cried, do not leave me, Johnny, Do not leave me, or I will die. For other maids they will despise me, And say I play’d the wanton soon, Do not leave me here a-pining, Condoling my hard fate by the light of the moon.
When six long months was past and over, Sally's waist began to swell, For a long time she kept it secret, O poor girl she durst not tell. But when her father came to know it, O sore he rag'd both morn and noon; The reason you may plainly guess it, Rearing the child by the light of the moon.
But it happened on a summer’s evening, ⟨I⟩ met her father all alone; ⟨H⟩e cried out O cruel Johnny, You've left my (illegible text) all undone; But if you promise to marry Sally, While you both are in your bloom,
​Five hundred pounds I will quickly pay thee, And the half of my land by the light of the moon.
Immediately I married Sally, Early by the morning dew, And I made him pay down her portion, On the table every pound I did not tarry for to count it, Or to look it o'er again, But I swept it into my wife’s apron, A pretty earn’d penny by the light of the moon.
# Crazy Jane (n.d.)/Let's be Jovial

LET'S BE JOVIAL
Let’s be jovial fill our glasses, Madness ’tis for us to think. How the world is ruled by asses, And the wise are sway’d by chink.
Then never let vain care oppress us, Riches are to them a snare; We’re ev’ry one as rich as Croesus, While the bottle drowns our care.
Wine will make us red as roses, And our sorrows quite forget
​Come let us fuddle all our ⟨noses⟩, Drink ourselves quite out of debt.
When grim Death comes looking for us, We are roving o’er our bowls: Bacchus joining in the chorus Death, begone here’s nought but souls.
God-like Bacchus thus commanding, Trembling death away shall fly, Ever after, understanding Drinking souls can never die.
FINIS
# Far, Far at Sea (Stirling)/Ere Around the Huge Oak

ERE AROUND THE HUGE OAK.
# The Arethusa/By the Gaily Circling Glass

BY THE GAILY CIRCLING GLASS.
# Ere Around the Huge Oak

* "Ere Around the Huge Oak", in Crazy Jane (n.d.), a chapbook printed in Edinburgh
* "Ere Around the Huge Oak", in The Arethusa (n.d.), a chapbook printed in Stirling
* "Ere Around the Huge Oak", in Far, Far at Sea (n.d.), a chapbook printed in Stirling
# By the Gaily Circling Glass

* "By the Gaily Circling Glass", in By the gaily circling glass (n.d.), a chapbook printed in Stirling
* "By the Gaily Circling Glass", in The Arethusa (n.d.), a chapbook printed in Stirling
* "What Have We With Day to Do?", in Todlen hame (n.d.), a chapbook printed in Glasgow
# Come Where My Love Lies Dreaming
## Sheet music

* "Come Where My Love Lies Dreaming" (1855), sheet music published by Wm. A. Pond & Co. (external scan)
* "Come Where My Love Lies Dreaming" (1855), sheet music published by Wm. A. Pond & Co. (external scan)
* "Come Where My Love Lies Dreaming" (1860), sheet music published by Wm. A. Pond & Co. (external scan)
* "Come Where My Love Lies Dreaming" (c. 1903), sheet music (external scan)

## Film renditions

* "Come Where My Love Lies Dreaming" (1928), as performed by Margarita Fischer in the 1928 rerelease of the 1927 film Uncle Tom's Cabin
# Todlen hame

TODLEN HAME.
The Bandy-legged Officer,
What have we with day to do.
Hae ye seen in the calm dewy morning.
It was in and about the Martinmas time.
Deserted by the waning Moon.
Glasgow—Printed for the Booksellers,
* Todlen Hame
* The Bandy-Legged Officer
* What Have We With Day to Do?
* Hae Ye Seen in the Calm Dewy Morning
* It Was In and About the Martinmas Time
* Deserted by the Waning Moon
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
# Todlen hame/What Have We With Day to Do?

WHAT HAVE WE WITH DAY TO DO?
By the gaily circling glass, We can see how minutes pass. By the hollow cask we’re told How the waning night grows old. Soon, too soon, the busy day Drives us from our sport away, What have we with day to do? Sons of are, ’twas made for you!
​By the silence of the owl, By the chirping on the thorn, By the butts thas empty roll, We foretel the approach of morn. Fill, then, fill the vacant glass, Let no precious moment slip; Flout the moralizing ass, Joys find entrance by the lip.
# Lullaby

* Search for titles containing or beginning with: "Lullaby"
* sister projects: Wikipedia article, Wikidata item
This is a disambiguation page. It lists works that share the same title. If an article link referred you here, please consider editing it to point directly to the intended page.

### Lullaby

* "Lullaby", a poem by W. H. Auden
* "Lullaby", a poem by Augusta Baldwyn
* "Lullaby", a song by Johannes Brahms
* "Lullaby", a poem by Florence Earle Coates
* "Lullaby", a poem by Helena Jane Coleman
* "Lullaby", a poem by Paul Laurence Dunbar
* "Lullaby", a poem by Elizabeth Heléne Freston
* "Lullaby", a song from the opera Erminie by Edward Jakobowski
* "Lullaby", a poem by William Shakespeare
* "Lullaby", a poem by Agnes Louisa Storrie
* "Lullaby", a poem by Laura Coster Strong
* "Lullaby", Cornish traditional nursery rhyme
* "Lullaby", a poem by an unknown author

### A Lullaby

* "A Lullaby", an anonymous poem
* "A Lullaby", a poem by Annie Isabel Curwen
* "A Lullaby", a poem by Mary Newmarch Prescott
* "A Lullaby", a poem by Alexander A. Ritchie
# Rhymes of a Red-Cross Man/Going Home
### Going Home

I'm goin' 'ome to Blighty — ain't I glad to 'ave the chance! I'm loaded up wiv fightin', and I've 'ad my fill o' France; I'm feelin' so excited-like, I want to sing and dance,  For I'm goin' 'ome to Blighty in the mawnin'.
I'm goin' 'ome to Blighty: can you wonder as I'm gay? I've got a wound I wouldn't sell for 'alf a year o' pay; A harm that's mashed to jelly in the nicest sort o' way,  For it takes me 'ome to Blighty in the mawnin'.
'Ow everlastin' keen I was on gettin' to the front! I'd ginger for a dozen, and I 'elped to bear the brunt; But Cheese and Crust! I'm crazy, now I've done me little stunt,  To sniff the air of Blighty in the mawnin'.
I've looked upon the wine that's white, and on the wine that's red; I've looked on cider flowin', till it fairly turned me 'ead; But oh, the finest scoff will be, when all is done and said,  A pint o' Bass in Blighty in the mawnin'.
I'm goin' back to Blighty, which I left to strafe the 'Un; I've fought in bloody battles, and I've 'ad a 'eap of fun; But now me flipper's busted, and I think me dooty's done,  And I'll kiss me gel in Blighty in the mawnin'.
Oh, there be furrin' lands to see, and some of 'em be fine; And there be furrin' gels to kiss, and scented furrin' wine; But there's no land like England, and no other gel like mine:  Thank Gawd for dear old Blighty in the mawnin'.
# The Arethusa/Lullaby

LULLABY.
FINIS.
# Going Home

This is a disambiguation page. It lists works that share the same title. If an article link referred you here, please consider editing it to point directly to the intended page.

## Children's books

* Going Home (2011), a children's book by Rukmini Banerji (transcription project)

## Films

* Going Home (1944), an entry in the Private Snafu series

## Verse

* "Going Home", a poem by Robert W. Service ("I'm goin' 'ome to Blighty — ain't I glad to 'ave the chance!")
* "Goin' Home", a song by William Arms Fisher ("Goin' home, goin' home, I'm a goin' home;")

## See also

* Going
* Home
# Going

* Search for titles containing or beginning with: "Going"
* sister projects: Wikidata item
This is a disambiguation page. It lists works that share the same title. If an article link referred you here, please consider editing it to point directly to the intended page.
* "Going", a poem by Emily Dickinson
* "The Going", a poem by Wilfrid Wilson Gibson in memory of Rupert Brooke
* "The Going", a poem by Thomas Hardy

## See also

* Go
* Going Home
# Go

* Search for titles containing or beginning with: "Go"
* sister projects: Wikipedia article, Commons category, Wikidata item
This is a disambiguation page. It lists works that share the same title. If an article link referred you here, please consider editing it to point directly to the intended page.
* "Go," in Encyclopædia Britannica (11th ed., 1911)
* Go, in Things Japanese

## See also

* The Game of Go
* Going
# Far, Far at Sea (Stirling)/The Sailor's Epitaph

THE SAILOR'S EPITAPH.
# Tom Bowling

* "The Sailor's Epitaph", in Laird of Logie (1802), a chapbook printed in Glasgow
* "Tom Bowling the Sailor", in Charming young Nancy (1814), a chapbook printed in Glasgow
* "Tom Bowling", in Bruce's Address (n.d.), a chapbook printed in Glasgow
* "Tom Bowling", in Old man's wish (n.d.), a chapbook with no printing location
* "The sailors epitaph", in A'body's like to be married but me (n.d.), a chapbook printed in Stirling
* "The Sailor's Epitaph", in Far, Far at Sea (n.d.), a chapbook printed in Stirling
* "The Sailor's Epitaph", in The Soldier's Return (n.d.), a chapbook printed in Stirling
# The Soldier's Return (2)/The Sailor's Epitaph

THE SAILOR'S EPITAPH.
# A'body's like to be married but me

A' body's like to be married but me.
MY NANNIE O,
Love among the Roses.
TOM BOWLING,
AND
Far amang the Highland hills.
PRINTED FOR, AND SOLD WHOLESALE BY, J. FRASER, PRINTER, STIRLING.
* A'body's like to be married but me
* Love among the roses
* The sailors epitaph
* My nannie, O
* The lass o' Arranteenie
* The beggar girl
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
# A'body's like to be married but me/A'body's like to be married but me

A' BODY'S LIKE TO BE MARRIED BUT ME.
As Jenny sat down wi' her wheel by the fire, An thought on the time that was fast fleein' ⟨by⟩ She said to hersel', wi' a heavy heigh hee; O, a' body's like to get married but me! She said, &c.
My youthfu' companions are a' worn awa, And tho' I've had wooers mysel', ane or twa, Yet a lad to my mind I ne er yet could see: O, a' body's like to get married but me! Yet a lad, &c.
There's Lowrie, the lawyer, wad hae me fu' fair Who has baith a house an a yard o' his ain; But before I'd gang to it, I rather wad die; A wee stumpin' body! he'll never get me! But before, &c.
There's Dickie, my cousin, frae Lun'on come down, Wi fine yellow buckskins that dazzled the town.
But, poor deevil, he ne'er get a blink o' my ee: O, a' body's like to get married but me! But, pour deevil, &c.
But I saw a lad by yon saughy-burn side, Wha weel wad deserve onie queen for his brides: ⟨Gin⟩ I had my will, soon his ain I wad be: O, a' body's like to get married but me! Gin I had, &c.
⟨I⟩ gied him a look, as a kind lassie shou'd; ⟨My⟩ friends if they kend it, wad surely run wud; ⟨For⟩ tho' bonnie and good, he's no worth a bawbee: O, a' body's like to get married but me! For tho' bonnie, &c.
'Tis hard to take shelter behint a laigh dike; 'Tis hard for to take ane we never can like; 'Tis hard for to leave ane we fain would be wi'; ⟨Yet⟩ it harder that a' should get married but me, 'Tis hard for, &c.
# A'body's like to be married but me/The sailors epitaph

THE SAILORS EPITAPH.
Here, a sheer hulk, lies poor Tom Bowling, The darling of our crew; No more he'll hear the tempest howling, For death has brought him to. His form was of the manliest beauty, His heart was kind and soft; Faithful below he and his duty, And now he's gone aloft.
Tom never from his word departed, His virtues were so rare; His friends were many, and true-hearted, His Poll was kind and fair; And then he'd sing so blythe and jolly, Ah! many's the time and oft;
But mirth is turn'd to melancholy, For Tom is gone aloft.
Yet shall poor Tom find pleasant weather, When He who all commands, Shall give, to call life's crew together, The word to pipe all hands. Thus death, who kings and tars despatches, In vain Tom's life had doff'd; For, tho' his body's under hatches, His soul is gone aloft.
# Laird of Logie

T H E
LAIRD of LOGIE,
A N
OLD SONG.
TO WHICH ARE ADDED,
The Sailor's Epitaph; or, Tom Bowling under the Hatches.
THE PHOENIX.
'T WAS YES,KIND SIR.
FOR THE LOVE OF JEAN.
GLASGOW, Printed by J. & M. Robertſon, Saltmarket, 1802.
* The Laird of Logie
* The Sailor's Epitaph
* The Phoenix
* 'Twas Yes, Kind Sir
* For the Love of Jean
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
# Laird of Logie/The Phoenix

THE PHOENIX.
Once more kind Muſes it is your duty, for to infuſe me with verſe ſublime, My ſubject ſurely is now amuſing as you have chooſe me for to define.
Ye mangling Po(illegible text)s don't dare oppoſe me, for now my notions are rais'd on high, Kind gods ſupport me thro' theſe my poſies, in you I glory and ſtill rely.
One pleaſant evening for recreation, as I was ranging down by the ſhore, I ſpied a maiden, a lovely fair one, I thought her Venus ſprung from the foam.
In admiration on her I gazed, in deep amazement I ſtood to view, This ſecond Phœnix excceding nature, and for to praiſe her it is my due.
​To you fair Sabra in all her charms, or chaſte Diana can't equalize, Nor ſhe whom Paris as is recorded, was pleas'd to order the Golden Prize.
The bright Aurora in all her glory, or goddeſs Flora you far outvie, My brain is roving in ſad emotions, I muſt adore you until I die.
You are an angel, you're good and pleaſing? your fine behaviour enchanted me, Your chains are heavy, I'm doom'd to wear them, I wiſh ſincerely for liberty.
Theſe wounds you gave me, ſay will you heal me, you have enſlav'd me, now ſet me free, It's you can eaſe me, from bonds releaſe me, and let me gain my tranquility.
My jewel and darling more fair than mornings, or orient radient you far cutſhine, Your eyes tranſparent have me alarmed, I wiſh my charmer that you were mine.
Your ſwan-like boſom, your neck including, your cheeks are blooming vermilion red, Sure every feature new beauty graces, and auburn treſſes flow from your head.
My breaſt is loaded with diſcompoſure, in love-ſick motion I now complain, Sly Cupid ſporting at my corrodings, that Brat he glories in giving pain.
Will you relieve me, from death reprieve me, your captive bleeder I now remain, 'm always weeping and ſtill am grieving, but its when ſleeping of you I dream,
​(illegible text)l recreations I'll now reſign them, in ſilent places I mean to rove, ⟨my⟩ prayers completely I'il offer daily, in adoration near Willow-grove.
(illegible text)e ſupreme Deities, ſay, will I gain her! will I obtain her, can I intrude (illegible text)n you my faireſt, what ſhall I ſay love, but that I'm almoſt crazy for Mary Booth.
# Laird of Logie/'Twas Yes, Kind Sir

'TWAS YES, KIND SIR.
THE ruddy morn blinks o'er the brac, as blithe I gade to milk my kine, ⟨When⟩ near the winding burn of Tay, wi' bonny gait, and twa black een; ⟨A⟩ highland lad fae kind me tent, ſaying, Sonſy laſs, how's a' wi' you? ⟨Shall⟩ I your pail tak o'er the bent? 'twas yes, kind Sir, and I thank you too.
⟨Again⟩ he met me i'the e'en, (illegible text) I was linken o'er the lee, ⟨To⟩ join the dance upo' the green, and ſaid, blithe laſs, I'll gang wi' thee; (illegible text)e braw he look'd in the highland gear, his tartan plaid, and bonnet blue, ⟨Mу⟩ heart ſtraight whiſper'd in my ear, ſay yes, kind Sir, and I thank you too.
⟨We⟩ danc'd until the gleaming moon, ga'e notice that it was time to part, ⟨Thought⟩ the reel was done o'er ſoon, for ah! the lad had ſtown my heart; ⟨He⟩ faw me hame acroſs the plain, then kiſt me ſweet, I vow its true, (illegible text)at when he aſk'd to kiſs again, 'twas yes, kind Sir, and I thank you too.
​Grown bold, he preſs'd to ſtay a' night, then gript me cloſs unto his breaſt, Hout lad! my Mither fair wou'd ſlyte, gif that I grant without the Prieſt; Sae gang for him, gif ye be leel, I ken then right what I maun do, For aſk to kiſs me when you will, 'twill be, yes, love, and I thank ye too.
# Laird of Logie/For the Love of Jean

FOR THE LOVE OF JEAN.
JOCKY ſaid to Jeany, Jeany, wilt thou do't? Ne'er a fit, quo' Jeany, for my tocher-good, For my tocher good, I winna marry thee, E'ens ye like quo' johnny, ye may let me be.
I hae gowd and gear, I hae land enough, I hae ſeven good owſen ganging in a pleugh, Ganging in a pleugh, and linking o'er the lee, And gin ye winna tak me, I can let you be.
I ha'e a good ha' houſe, a barn and a byer, A ſtack afore the door, I'll mak a rantin fire, I'll mak a rantin fire, and merry we ſhall be: And gin ye winna tak me, I can let ye be.
Jeany ſaid to Jocky, gin ye winna tell, Ye ſhall be the lad, I'll be the laſs myſell; Ye're a bonny lad, and I'm a laſſie free, Ye're welcome to tak me than to let me be.
GLASGOW, Printed by J. & M. ROBERTSON, Saltmarket, 1802.