American Old Time Song Lyrics: 30 Mary Omara

Theater, Music-Hall, Nostalgic, Irish & Historic Old Songs, Volume 30

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By Samuel Lover.

Mary O'Mara, I think that I see thee,
Still blooming and young.
Crown'd with a beauty as dazzlingly beaming
As poet e'er sung.
Lovers deep-sighing,
All emulous vying
Thy love to secure;
While 'twas mine to adore.
And my lot to deplore-
For thy minstrel was poor,
Mary O'Mara.

Mary O'Mara, the lordly O'Hara
Might make thee his own,
For his lineage was high, while the light of thine eye
Might have challeng'd a throne!
If his love rise
To the worth of the prize
He hath captur'd in thee,
Then a homage is thine
That a saint in her shrine
Scarcely deeper may see,
Mary O'Mara,

Mary O'Mara, I think that I hear thee,
With voice like a bell,
So silver sweet ringing, the minstrelsy singing
Of him who lov'd well;
Of him who, still loving
And hopelessly roving
In regions afar,
Still thinks of the time
That he wove the sweet rhyme
To his heart's brightest star-
Mary O'Mara,
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