| PAGE |
| About the sweet bag of a bee, | 113 |
| A chieftain to the Highlands bound, | 252 |
| Ae fond kiss, and then we sever, | 181 |
| Agincourt, Agincourt, | 78 |
| Ah, my swete swetyng, | 1 |
| Alas! my love, you do me wrong, | 17 |
| Allen-a-Dale has no faggot for burning, | 247 |
| All in the Downs the fleet was moor'd, | 129 |
| All ye woods, and trees, and bowers, | 13 |
| And did you not hear of a jolly young Waterman, | 201 |
| An old song made by an aged old pate, | 59 |
| A parrot from the Spanish main, | 261 |
| Arm, arm, arm, arm, the scouts are all come in, | 16 |
| A simple child, | 241 |
| As I came thro' Sandgate, | 196 |
| Ask me no more where Jove bestows, | 107 |
| Ask me no more, the moon may draw the sea, | 337 |
| A spirit haunts the year's last hours, | 330 |
| As thro' the land at eve we went, | 331 |
| A sweet disorder in the dress, | 115 |
| Attend all ye who list to hear our noble England's praise, | 309 |
| A weary lot is thine, fair maid, | 246 |
| A Well there is in the west country, | 233 |
| A wet sheet and a flowing sea, | 267 |
|
|
| Beauty clear and fair, | 14 |
| Be it right or wrong, these men among, | 39 |
| 315 |
| In the merry month of May, | 8 |
| In Wakefield there lives a jolly pinder, | 37 |
| I sprang to the stirrup, and Joris, and he, | 343 |
| Is there for honest poverty, | 178 |
| I tell thee, Dick, where I have been, | 118 |
| It is an ancient Mariner, | 202 |
| It is the miller's daughter, | 340 |
| I travelled among unknown men, | 243 |
| It was a blind beggar had long lost his sight, | 24 |
| It was a friar of orders gray, | 228 |
| It was a lover and his lass, | 84 |
| It was a summer evening, | 235 |
| It was the frog in the well, | 123 |
| It was the time when lilies blow, | 312 |
| I've seen the smiling, | 238 |
| I wander'd by the brook-side, | 347 |
|
|
| John Anderson, my jo, John, | 187 |
| John Gilpin was a citizen, | 139 |
|
|
| Kentish Sir Byng stood for his King, | 345 |
| King Death was a rare old fellow, | 280 |
|
|
| Lassie wi' the lint-white locks, | 185 |
| Lawn as white as driven snow, | 85 |
| Lay a garland on my hearse, | 14 |
| Let me the canakin clink, clink, | 86 |
| Let the bells ring, and let the boys sing, | 15 |
| Lithe and listen, gentlemen, | 53 |
| 105 |
|
