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18 THE GOLDEN TREASURY OF |
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Oh ! pray to them softly, my baby, with me — And say thou wouldst rather, they'd watch o'er thy
father, For I know that the angels are whispering with
thee."
The dawn of the morning saw Dermot returning, And the wife wept with joy her babe's father to see, And closely caressing her child, with a blessing Said, " I knew that the angels were whispering with thee! " |
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THE LOW-BACKED CAR
WHEN first I met sweet Peggy, 'Twas on a market day, A low-backed car she drove, and sat Upon a truss of hay. But when that hay was blooming grass,
And decked with flowers of spring, No flower was there that could compare
With the blooming girl I sing. As she sat in the low-backed car, The man at the turnpike bar Never asked for the toll, But just rubbed his owld poll, And looked after the low-backed car.
In battle's wild commotion,
The proud and mighty Mars With hostile scythes demands his tithes
Of death—in warlike cars; |
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