| Share page | Visit Us On FB |
|
IRISH SONGS AND LYRICS 89 |
||
|
To Cork's own cove though one may rove,
They will not find mo croidhe /1
A rarer bay, a fairer bay,
A sweeter bay nor thee.
For the Kaiser's rod and his realms so broad,
I wouldn't swap, not I,
My Inver Bay on a harvest day,
And the sun goin' down the sky. |
||
|
A purtier boat there's not afloat
Than Donal Rose's "Nan,"
A boulder crew, nor boys more true
There's not in wide Irelan'.
A long, long pull, a sthrong, sthrong pull,
And one right hearty cheer,
Our " Nan " so brave, she tops the wave,
And our comrades' boats we clear;
We lead the throng, we sthrike a song,
We rise it loud and high
On Inver Bay, of a harvest day,
And the sun goin' down the sky.
Till we reach away where the herrin's play,
There's neither slack nor slow;
As quick as thought our nets are shot,
On the thwarts, then we lie low,
And many's the stave rolls over the wave,
And many's the yarn is told;
The sea all white, with silver bright,
The air all filled with gold — |
||
|
|
||
|
Mo croidhe, pronounced machree, my heart. |
||
|
|
||