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Frederick Edward Weatherly (4 October 1848 – 7 September 1929) was an English songwriter and poet.
- Oh, Danny Boy, the pipes, the pipes are calling
From glen to glen, and down the mountain side,
The summer's gone, and all the roses falling,
It's you, it's you must go, and I must bide.
- Song Danny Boy
- And once again the scene was chang’d,
New earth there seem’d to be,
I saw the Holy City
Beside the tideless sea;
The light of God was on its streets,
The gates were open wide,
And all who would might enter,
And no one was denied.
No need of moon or stars by night,
Or sun to shine by day,
It was the new Jerusalem,
That would not pass away.
- Song The Holy City
- Roses are shining in Picardy
In the hush of the silver dew;
Roses are flowering in Picardy
But there's never a rose like you.
And the roses will die with the summer time
And our roads may be far apart,
But there's one rose that dies not in Picardy;
'Tis the rose that I keep in my heart.
- Song Roses of Picardy
- Oh, we'm come up from Somerset,
Where the cider apples grow,
We'm come to see your Majesty,
An' how the world do go.
And when you're wanting anyone,
If you'll kindly let us know,
We'll all come up from Somerset,
Because we loves you so!
- Song Up from Somerset
- I stand in a land of roses,
But I dream of a land of snow,
Where you and I were happy,
In the years of long ago.
- Song Thora
- I have knelt in the mighty temples,
But the dumb gods make no sign;
They cannot speak to my spirit,
As thy soul speaks to mine.
- Song Nirvana
- M R Turner & A Miall, The Edwardian Song Book (Methuen, 1982) ISBN 0 413 49790 9
- Encyclopedic article on Frederic Weatherly on Wikipedia
- Works related to Author:Frederick Edward Weatherly on Wikisource
- Media related to Frederic Weatherly on Wikimedia Commons