There's none to soothe my soul to rest,
There's none my load of grief to share
Or wake to joy this lonely breast,
Or light the gloom of dark despair.

The voice of joy no more can cheer,
The look of love no more can warm
Since mute for aye's that voice so dear,
And closed that eye alone could charm.

• 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