Dedicated to Mrs. Field.
"Floy Van Cortlandt" (circa 1870s)
Written by Hazard
Composed by John Rogers Thomas, 1830-1896

New York: Chas. H. Ditson & Co., 711 Broadway
Boston: Oliver Ditson & Co.
[Source: @LoC]

1. Among the hills, the woods and clouds,
Where Hudson winds to sea,
'Twas there that Floy Van Cortlandt
First gave her heart to me,
First gave her heart to me,
Amidst the cannon's roar,
As I knelt with Floy Van Cortlandt,
Upon the moonlit shore.

2. There's music in yon winding path
Which others may not hear;
The patt'ring of a little foot
That charms my list'ning ear,
That charms my list'ning ear,
Like uing of mateless dove
Comes sighing in the quiet air,
'Tis my first my only love.

3. There's music in the highland dells
Of birds half hid from view;
For her and me they sweetly sing,
For they are lovers too!
And like her a little shy
And like me, for Floy Van Cortlandt
Would joy to live and die.

4. The thunder roll'd among the clouds
On Catkill's giddy height;
THe lightning flash on ev'ry hill,
But never dimm'd the light;
But never dimm'd the light
Of the dark and dazzling eye,
Of my gentle Floy Van Cortlandt,
For whom I'll live and die.

5. Her face is like the highland scenes,
All smiles and dimples deep;
Her voice is like the angels,
Her faith she'll ever keep
Her faith she'll ever keep
Ever keep it holily
And with faithful Floy Van Cortlandt
How happy I shall be.

6. Her brow is alabaster white,
Her neck the swan's at noon,
Her hand it is the softest
That ever grac'd a throne
That ever grac'd a throne,
And that hand she's giv'n to me,
And with it, and Floy Van Cortlandt,
How happy I will be!

7. Her step is like the wild gazelle's,
Her hair the raven's own,
Her breath is like the summer winds,
When o'er sweet roses blown,
When o'er sweet roses blown,
She is all the world to me,
And with charming Floy Van Cordlandt,
How happy I shall be.

8. That I am all the world to her,
It joys my breath to say,
Her beating heart has told me so,
For many a happy day,
For many a happy day,
And her bonny lip and eye,
Oh! my darling Floy Van Cortlandt,
For thee I'll live and die.

9. There's music in the cottage home,
On Hudson's moonlit shore;
There's music in the voice that prays,
To Him we all adore,
To Him we all adore
Whose blessings rest on thee!
Then cares may not,
For come they will,
Still happy we will be.