When icicles hang by the wall
Tell me, where is fancy bred?
Do nothing but eat ; Be merry, be merry ; A cup of wine ; Do me right
Pardon, goddess of the night
How should I your true love know ; Tomorrow is St. Valentine's Day ; They bore him barefac'd on the bier
Take, o take those lips away
Blow, blow, thou winter wind
What shall he have that kill'd the deer?
It was a lover and his lass
Come, thou monarch of the vine.
