THE DEAR IRISH BOY
My Conner, his cheeks are as ruddy as morning,
The brightest of pearls do but mimic his teeth,
While nature with ringlets mild brow adorning,
His hair Cupid's bow strings, and roses his breath.
Smiling, beguiling, cheering, endearing,
Together how oft o'er the mountain we strayed,
By each other delighted and fondly united,
I have listened all day to my dear Irish boy.
No roebuck more swift could fly over the mountain,
No veteran bolder danger or scars,
He's sightly, he's sprightly, he's clear as the fountain,
His eyes twinkle love, oh! he's gone to the wars.-Chorus.
The soft, tuneful lark, his notes change to mourning,
The dark, screaming owl impedes my night's sleep,
While lonely I walk in the shade of t*ie evening,
Till my Conner's return I will ne'er cease to weep.-Chorus.
The war being over, and he not returned,
I fear that some dark, envious plot has been laid,
Or that some cruel goddess has him captivated,
And left here to mourn his dear Irish maid.-Chorus.