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IRISH SONGS AND LYRICS 387 |
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Just like a saint, she seemed, God's pleasure waiting only;
I could not help but weep, And join her in that shrine so lonely
Breathing petitions deep. |
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IRISH MOLLY O1
O
H ! who is that poor foreigner that lately came to town, And like a ghost that cannot rest still wanders up and down ? A poor, unhappy Scottish youth;—if more you wish
to know, His heart is breaking all for love of Irish Molly O ! She's modest, mild, and beautiful, the fairest I
have known — The primrose of Ireland—all blooming here
alone — The primrose of Ireland, for wheresoe'er I go, The only one entices me is Irish Molly O !
When Molly's father heard of it, a solemn oath he
swore, That if she'd wed a foreigner he'd never see her more. He sent for young MacDonald and he plainly told
him so — " I'll never give to such as you my Irish Molly O ! "
She's modest, etc.
1 This ballad has been largely kept alive by virtue of the beautiful and pathetic air to which it is sung. |
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