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374 THE GOLDEN TREASURY OF |
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My sister Mary heard the express, She ran up-stairs in her mourning-dress— Five hundred guineas I will lay down, To see my brother through Wexford Town.
As I was walking up Wexford Hill,
Who could blame me to cry my fill ?
I looked behind and I looked before,
But my tender mother I shall ne'er see more.
As I was mounted on the platform high,
My aged father was standing by;
My aged father did me deny,
And the name he gave me was the Croppy Boy.
It was in Dungannon this young man died, And in Dungannon his body lies; All you good Christians that do pass by Just drop a tear for the Croppy Boy.
THE CRUISKEEN LAWN1
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ET the farmer praise his grounds, Let the huntsman praise his hounds, The shepherd his dew-scented lawn But I, more blest than they,
1 The chorus is pronounced thus :
Gra-ma-chree ma crooskeen, Shlantya gal ma-woornetn, S gra-ma-ckree a cooleen bant etc, and means:
Love of my heart, my little jug!
Bright health to my darling !
The love of my heart is her fair hair, etc. |
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