The Bachelor's Song

While I keep my lonely hall,
You are welcome one and all,
As I sing my little song;
Stay, I'll cheer you all day long -
And sow my bachelor-buttons,
And sow my bachelor-buttons.

While this world is wild with glee,
Chime I now my song to thee;
In my bosom lurks no care,
I can loiter everywhere -
And sow my bachelor-buttons,
And sow my bachelor-buttons.

Oh dear, what a happy life
For the man who has no wife,
To bind with sore distresses,
And silk and satin dresses -
While he sows his bachelor-buttons,
While he sows his bachelor-buttons.

His heart is ever merry,
His way is bright and cheery;
No peevish baby crying,
No jealous wife a-sighing -
While he sows his bachelor-buttons,
While he sows his bachelor-buttons.

Ah! praise the God who hath given
A life so much like heaven;
Quit it? Oh no, I'll never,
But live happy forever -
And sow my bachelor-buttons,
And sow my bachelor-buttons.

Edward Smyth Jones

Edward Smyth Jones was an African American poet born in Natchez, Mississippi, best known for his poem "A Song of Thanks". He faced significant challenges throughout his life, including racial prejudice and economic hardship. His work often reflects his struggles and aspirations, particularly focusing on themes of resilience, hope, and gratitude. Despite his relatively obscure status in literary circles, Jones's contributions are recognized for their emotional depth and historical significance. He passed away in 1968.

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English

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The Ballad Of A Bachelor

Listen, ladies, while I sing
The ballad of John Henry King.

John Henry was a bachelor,
His age was thirty-three or four.

Two maids for his affection vied,
And each desired to be his bride,

And bravely did they strive to bring
Unto their feet John Henry King.

John Henry liked them both so well,
To save his life he could not tell

Which he most wished to be his bride,
Nor was he able to decide.

Fair Kate was jolly, bright, and gay,
And sunny as a summer day;

Marie was kind, sedate, and sweet,
With gentle ways and manners neat.

Each was so dear that John confessed
He could not tell which he liked best.

He studied them for quite a year,
And still found no solution near,

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My Bachelor Chum

A corpulent man is my bachelor chum,
    With a neck apoplectic and thick -
An abdomen on him as big as a drum,
    And a fist big enough for the stick;
With a walk that for grace is clear out of the case,
    And a wobble uncertain - as though
His little bow-legs had forgotten the pace
    That in youth used to favor him so.

He is forty, at least; and the top of his head
    Is a bald and a glittering thing;
And his nose and his two chubby cheeks are as red
    As three rival roses in spring;

His mouth is a grin with the corners tucked in,
    And his laugh is so breezy and bright
That it ripples his features and dimples his chin
    With a billowy look of delight.

He is fond of declaring he "don't care a straw" -
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Spinsters

Here's to the Bachelor, so lonely and gay,
For it's not his fault, he was born that way;
And here's to the Spinster, so lonely and good;
For it's not her fault, she hath done what she could.

Unknown

The Merryman And His Maid

[HE]    I have a song to sing, O!
[SHE]    Sing me your song, O!
[HE]    It is sung to the moon
By a love-lorn loon,
Who fled from the mocking throng, O!
It's the song of a merryman, moping mum,
Whose soul was sad, whose glance was glum,
Who sipped no sup, and who craved no crumb,
As he sighed for the love of a ladye.
Heighdy! heighdy!
Misery me - lackadaydee!
He sipped no sup, and he craved no crumb,
As he sighed for the love of a ladye!

[SHE]    I have a song to sing, O!
[HE]    Sing me your song, O!
[SHE]    It is sung with the ring
Of the song maids sing
Who love with a love life-long, O!
It's the song of a merrymaid, peerly proud,
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The Precocious Baby. A Very True Tale

(To be sung to the Air of the "Whistling Oyster.")

An elderly person a prophet by trade
With his quips and tips
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He married a young and a beautiful maid;
The cunning old blade!
Though rather decayed,
He married a beautiful, beautiful maid.

She was only eighteen, and as fair as could be,
With her tempting smiles
And maidenly wiles,
And he was a trifle past seventy-three:
Now what she could see
Is a puzzle to me,
In a prophet of seventy seventy-three!

Of all their acquaintances bidden (or bad)
With their loud high jinks
And underbred winks,
None thought they'd a family have but they had;
A dear little lad
Who drove 'em half mad,
For he turned out a horribly fast little cad.

For when he wa...

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Sing Heigh-Ho!

There sits a bird on every tree;
    Sing heigh-ho!
There sits a bird on every tree,
And courts his love as I do thee;
    Sing heigh-ho, and heigh-ho!
    Young maids must marry.

There grows a flower on every bough;
    Sing heigh-ho!
There grows a flower on every bough,
Its petals kiss - I'll show you how:
    Sing heigh-ho, and heigh-ho!
    Young maids must marry.

From sea to stream the salmon roam;
    Sing heigh-ho!
From sea to stream the salmon roam;
Each finds a mate, and leads her home;
    Sing heigh-ho, and heigh-ho!
    Young maids must marry.

The sun's a bridegroom, earth a bride;
    Sing heigh-ho!
They court from morn till eventide:
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    Sing heigh-ho, and heigh...

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