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IRISH SONGS AND LYRICS |
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So I think, after that, I may talk to the priest." Then Rory, the rogue, stole his arm round her neck, So soft and so white, without freckle or speck, And he looked in her eyes that were beaming with
light, And he kissed her sweet lips,—don't you think he was
right ? " Now, Rory, leave off, sir ; you'll hug me no more ; That's eight times to-day. that you've kissed me
before." " Then here goes another," says he, " to make sure, For there's luck in odd numbers," said Rory O'More. |
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THE ANGEL'S WHISPER
A BABY was sleeping, its mother was weeping, For her husband was far on the wild raging sea, And the tempest was swelling, round the fisherman's dwelling, And she cried, " Dermot, darling, oh ! come back to me."
Her beads while she numbered, the baby still slumbered, And smiled in her face as she bended her knee; " Oh 1 blest be that warning, my child's sleep adorn-' ing, For I know that the angels are whispering with thee.
" And while they are keeping bright watch o'er thy sleeping, |
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