| Share page | Visit Us On FB |
|
IRISH SONGS AND LYRICS 83
Oh, Kathaleen Ni Houlihan, your road's a thorny
way, And 'tis a faithful soul would walk the flints with you
for aye, Would walk the sharp and cruel flints until his locks
grew gray.
So some must wander to the East, and some must
wander West; Some seek the white wastes of the North, and some a
Southern nest: Yet never shall they sleep so sweet as on your mother
breast.
The whip of hunger scourged them from the glens and
quiet moors, But there's a hunger of the heart that plenty never
cures; And they shall pine to walk again the rough road that
is yours.
Within the city streets, hot, hurried, full of care, A sudden dream shall bring them a whiff of Irish air — A cool air, faintly-scented, blown soft from otherwhere.
Oh, the cabins long-deserted /—Olden memories awake —
Oh, the pleasant, pleasant places .'—Hush / the blackbird in the brake.'
Oh, the dear and kindly voices I—Now their hearts are fain to ache. |
||
|
|
||