%images;]> amss-as109240 My pretty Jane. London: Published at Taylor's Song Mart 93, Brick Lane, Bethnal Green, Hawkers and the Trade supplied. [n. d. ]: a machine-readable transcription. American Song Sheets. Selected and converted. American Memory, Library of Congress.

Washington, DC, 1999.

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American Song Sheet Collection, Rare Book and Special Collections Division, Library of Congress. Copyright status not determined; refer to accompanying matter.

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1999/03/10 001
MY PRETTY JANE.

London:—Published at TAYLOR'S Song Mari 93, Brick Lane, Bethnal Green.

Hawkers' and the Trade Supplied.

My pretty Jane, my dearest Jane, Ah never look so shy; But meet me, meet me in the clover, While the bloon is on the rye. The spring is waning fast, my love, The corn is in the ear; The summer night's are coming, love, The moon shines bright and clear. My pretty Jane, &c.

Then name the day—the happy day, And I will buy the ring; The lads and maids in favours white. And the village bells shall ring. The spring is waning, &c.

Come pretty Jane, then let us rove, In spring—oh, smile on me! Remember. I'm your faithful swain, Reward my constancy; For spring is waning fast, my love, nd summer will decline; Then let to-morrow be the day That I may call thee mine.

YOUNG NAPOLEON OR THE Bonny Bunch of Roses.

By the dangers of the ocean, One morning in the month of June, The feathered warbling songsters, Their charming notes did tune, There I esyied a female, Seemingly in grief and woe, In conversation with young Bonaparte, Concerning the Bonny bunch of Roses. O.

O then said young Napoleon, And grasp'd his mother by the hand, Do mother pray have patience Until I am able to command: I will raise a terrible army, And through tremendous dangers go. And in spite of all the universe, I will gain the bonny bunch of roses, O.

When first you saw young Bonaparte, You fell upon your bended knee, And asked your father's life of him, He granted it most manfully. 'Twas then he took an army, And o'er the frozen realms did go, He said I'll conquer Moscow, Then go to the bonny bunch of roses, O.

He took three hundred thousand men, And likewise kings to join his throne, He was so well provided, Enough to speep this world along. But when he came near Moscow, Near overpowered by driven anew, All Moscow was a blazing, Then he lost the bonny bunch of roses, O,

Now son ne'er speak so venturesome, For England is the heart of oak— England, Ireland, and Scotland, Their unity has ne'er been broke. And son, look at your father. In St. Helena his body lays low, And you will follow after, So beware of the bonny bunch of roses, O,

Oh. mother, adieu for ever, Now I am on my dying bed, If I had lived I should have been clover, But now I droop my youthful head; But while our bones do moulder, And weeping willows o'er us grow The deeds of bold Napoleon Will sting the bonny bunch en Bon.

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