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      BLOODY ALMA.

You loyal heroes pray uow draw near,
Unto the news I've brought you here,
With joy each Irish heart does cheer,
For their victory gained at Alma ;
It was aft the morning of that day,
In spite of the salt dashing spray,
We landed safe in the Crimea,
Upon our route for Alma.

               CHORUS—

Sow Irish boys be of good cheer,
We'll beat our foes, then do not fear.
We made the Russians ruu this year,
In haste from bloody Alma.
That night we lay on the cold ground,
No tents nor shelter could be found,
With rain we all were nearly drowned,
To cheer our hearts for Alma;
Next morning a burning sun did rise,
Beneath the cloudless eastern skies--
Oar gallant chief Napoleon cries,
Prepare to march for Alma.
And when the Alma came in view,
The stoutest hearts it would subdue,
To see the Russian camp in view,
Upon the heights of Alma:
They were so strongly fortified,
With batteries on the mountain side,
Our generate view'd their force and cried
We'll get hot work at Alma.
Marshal St. Arnaud of France is dead,
He our gallant men to victory led,
And with the Frenchmen by his side,
we gained the heights of Alma.
The balls did fall as thick as rain,
When we the batteries strove to gain,
And many a hero there was slain,
Upon the heights of Alma.
The 88th, the 7th Irish Fusiliers,
Then climb'd the hill and gave three cheers
while Faugh-a-ballagh did rend our ears,
From Hibernia's sons at Alma.
The brave French lads in warm clothes,
They were not last you may suppose,
But boldly faced the Russian foes,
And gained the heights at Alma.
As soon as the heights we did command,
We fought the Russians hand to hand,
But the Rusian men they could not stand
Our Irish charge at Alma.
Their guns and knapsacks threw down,
And ran like hares before the hounds
The ' Vive le Empeur' did resound,
For the sons of France at Alma.
To Sebastopol those Russians fled,
And left their wounded and their dead,
The river that day I'm sure ran red,
With the blood was spilt at Alma.
And though the battle we have got,
And gallantly our heroes fought,
Yet dearly was that victory bought,
Twelve thousand fell at Alma.
Between the wounded and the slain,
The Russians lost 8,000 men,
And had three thousand prisoners hta
Upon the heights of Alma.
Four thousand British I've heard say,
Did fall upon that fatal day,
And fourteen hundred Frenchmen lay,
All in their gore at Alma.
From orph as eyes the tears doth roll,
And none the widows can console,
While parents mourn beyond controle
For the sons the best at Alma.
And many a pretty maid dees mourn
Her lover who will ne'er return,
By this curs'd war he's from her
His body lies at Alma.
To Sebastopool our troops are long gone,
And news you'll be a before its torn,

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      The Royal Blackbird

Upon a fair morning for soft recreation
I heard a fail lady making great moan,
With sighing and sobbing and sad lamentation
Saying, my blackbird most loyal is flown.
My thoughts they're deceived-
Reflections do grieve me,
And I'm overburtbencd with sad dismay
Yet if death should blind me,
As true love inclines me,
Black-Bird I'll seek out whenever he be.

Once in fair England my blackbird did flourish
He was the chief flower that in it did spring
Prime ladies of honour his person did nourish
Because that he was the true son of a king
But this false fortune,
Which still is uncertain,
His caused this parting between him and me
His same I'll advance
In Spain and in France.
And seek out my Black Bird wherever he be

The birds of the forest they all met together—
I'he turtle was chosen to dwell with the dove
And Pin resolved in fair or foul weather
To seek out untill I find my true love
He is all my hearts treasure
My joy and my treasure,
And justly my love my heart follows thee,
Who is constanl and kind,
And courageous of mind.
All bliss to my Black Bird wherever he be:

In England my black bird and I were togeth
Where he was still noble and geneos of hea
And woe to the time that he first went thithe
Alas, he was forced from thence to depart,
In Scotland he,s deemed
And highly esteemed,
In England he seemed a stranger to be
Yet bis name shall remain
In France and in Spain
All bliss to my Black Bird wherever he be.

What if the fowler my Blackbird has taken
Then sighing and sobbings shall be my tane
But if he s safe I will not be forsaken,
For him thro' the fire
Thro' mud and thro' fire,
I'll go,for I love him to such a degree
Who is generous and kind,
And noble of mind,
To bring all blessings wherever he be

It is not the occan can fright me with danger
For though like a pilgrim I wander forlorn,
I may meet with friendship from one thats a
stranger
More than from one that in England wasbor
Oh! Heaven so spacious
To Britain be gracious,
Tho some there be odious to both him and me
Yet oy and renown,
And laurel shall crown