American Old Time Song Lyrics: 54 Rivals

Theater, Music-Hall, Nostalgic, Irish & Historic Old Songs, Volume 54

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Copyright, 1895, by Edward A. Brown.
Words by Charles H. Brow a. Music by Edward A. Brown.

We swells and belles were there, the mirrow'd ballroom glow'd;
The choice of wealth and beauty danc'd as the music flow'd;
One girl outshone the rest, as diamonds unto glass.
And Ed and I were rivals for this fair, blooming lass;
With her I danced a waltz, her blue eyes met my gaze,
As in a dream we floated 'round the magic maze,
As Ed and I did strive our wit and grace display,
As rivals for her favors before the break of day.

For Ed and I were rivals all thro' that giddy whirl,
A fair one like a fairy the sweetest laughing girl,
Just drew us like a magnet thro' that inspiring dance,
And bound us by a spell of love, flashing from her glance.

I gazed into her eyes, bright eyes of palest blue;
And as the dance proceeded I ask'd her to be true;
She press'd my hand in hers, as token of her love,
Her heart beat fast and flutter'd just like a captur'd dove;
My rival's face did flush, he saw her timid look.
And my triumphant bearing no insult would I brock.
He left the dance in haste, departed ere 'twas morn,
As in that crowded ballroom my heart's first love was born- Chorus.

Next ev'ning at our club I met my old friend Ed:
Now friends no more but rivals, I hate you, sir, he said;
Cast his glove in my face, his features firmly set,
Sir, a duel we must have-arrange it now we've met;
With rage I swore I'd fight, and so, with bitter hate,
I told him that the morning would see his bitter fate;
He laugh'd to scorn my boast, keen rivals now at heart,
Unto the death at sunrise with love or life to part.- Chorus

Rivals for fair blue eyes, upon the field we stood,
Our seconds had arrang'd It, and honor call'd for blood.
A surgeon, our valets, and our coaches did wait,
The issue of the duel our honor or our fate.
With firm and steady eyes, we faced each other then,
Thought of our homes in boyhood, those happy days again.
Too late to reconcile, the signal and we fired,
Her love can ne'er replace him, my love with him expir'd.- Chorus.
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E-Book - An Annotated Compendium of Old Time American Songs by James Alverson III