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IRISH SONGS AND LYRICS 181 |
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JOHN FISHER MURRAY
DARK MARGARET
WE sit by the fire,— My poor old wife and I; The fire burns slow, our hearts are low, And the tear stands in the eye. For our daughters three who are over the sea, Far, far, in the wooded west; One after one, our darlings are gone ; But our Mary we loved the best.
My brother's son
Sits in the chimney by us;
The staff of our age—hard, hard is the page
Of the lesson that keeps him by us.
For he longs to be free, to go over the sea
Where his kindred have found their rest.
One after one, our darlings are gone,
But our Mary he loved the best.
Welcome, Margaret!
Dear Margaret, have you come ?
Draw nigh to the fire, and tighten the wire,
And sing us a song of home.
For though heaven denies the light to your eyes,
Yet never were expressed
By the Harper King, such strains as you sing,
And our Mary loved them best. |
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