'tis the last rose of summer,
Left blooming alone;
All her lovely companions are faded and gone;
No flow'r of her kindred,
No rosebud is nigh
To reflect back her blushes,
Or give sigh for sigh.

I'll not leave thee, thou lone one,
To pine on the stem;
Since the lovely are sleeping,
Go, sleep thou with them;
Thus kindly I scatter
Thy leaves o'er the bed
Where thy mates of the garden
Lie senseless and dead.

So soon may I follow,
When friendships decay,
And from love's shining circle
The gems drop away!
When true hearts lie wither'd,
And fond ones are flown,
Oh! who would inhabit
This bleak world alone?

• Come You Not from Newcastle?
• Dear Harp of My Country!
• Early One Morning
• Fileuse
• How Sweet The Answer
• La Belle Est Au Jardin D'amour
• Little Sir William
• O Can Ye Sew Cushions?
• O Waly, Waly
• Oft in The Stilly Night
• Oliver Cromwell
• Quand J'йtais Chez Mon Pиre
• Sweet Polly Oliver
• The Ash Grove
• The Last Rose of Summer
• The Plough Boy
• The Trees They Grow So High
• There's None to Soothe
• Voici Le Printemps