"Father I am your youngest boy. In taking toll is all my joy. Before I would good living lack, I'd take the whole--forswear the sack." 10 "Thou art the boy," the old man said, "For thou hast full acquired the trade. The mill is thine," the old man cried, He laugh'd, gave up the ghost, and died. No. 13 ORMOND THE BRAVE C.J.S. [Music] 1 I am Ormond the brave, did ye never hear of me? Who lately was driven from my own country. They tried me, condemned me, they plundered my estate, For being so loyal to Queen Anne the Great, Crying, O! I am Ormond, you know. 2 O to vict'ry I led, and I vanquished every foe, Some do call me James Butler, I'm Ormond, you know, I am Queen Anne's darling, and old England's delight, A friend to the Church, in Fanatic's despite, Crying, O! I am Ormond, you know. 3 Then awake Devon dogs, and arise you Cornish cats, And follow me a chasing the Hanoverian rats, They shall fly from the country, we'll guard the British throne, Have no German electors with a king, sirs, of our own. Crying, O! I am Ormond, you know. 4 O I wronged not my country as Scottish peers do, Nor my soldiers defrauded, of that which is their due. All such deeds I do abhor, by the powers that are above, I've bequeath'd all my fortune to the country I love. Crying, O! I am Ormond, you know. No. 14 SIR JOHN BARLEYCORN C.J.S. [Music] 1 There came three men from out the West Their victory to try; And they have ta'en a solemn oath, Poor Barleycorn should die. With a Ri-fol-lol-riddle-diddle-dol Ri fol, ri fol dee. 2 They took a plough and ploughed him in, Clods harrowed on his head; And then they took a solemn oath John Barleycorn was dead. With a Ri-fol &c. 3 There he lay sleeping in the ground Till rain did on him fall; Then Barleycorn sprung up his head, And so amazed them all. With a Ri-fol &c. 4 There he remained till Midsummer And look'd both pale and wan; Then Barleycorn he got a beard And so became a man. With a Ri-fol &c. 5 Then they sent men with scythes so sharp To cut him off at knee; And then poor Johnny Barleycorn They served most barbarouslie. With a Ri-fol &c. 6 Then they sent men with pitch forks strong To pierce him through the heart; And like a doleful Tragedy They bound him in a cart. With a Ri-fol &c. 7 And then they brought him to a barn A prisoner to endure; And so they fetched him out again, And laid him on the floor. With a Ri-fol &c. 8 Then they set men with holly clubs, To beat the flesh from th' bones; But the miller served him worse than that He ground him 'twixt two stones. With a Ri-fol &c. 9