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4i6 THE GOLDEN TREASURY OF
Whilst the nose of the jewel Slants straight as Cam Tual From the heaven in her eye to her heather-sweet lips. Oh, where, etc.
Did your eyes ever follow The wings of the swallow, Here and there, light as air, o'er the meadow-field glance ? For, if not, you've no notion Of the exquisite motion Of her sweet little feet as they dart in the dance, Oh, where, etc.
If y' enquire why the nightingale
Still shuns the invitin' gale That wafts every song-bird but her to the West,
Faix, she knows, I suppose,
Ould Kenmare has a rose That would sing any Bulbul to sleep in her nest. Oh, where, etc.
When her voice gives the warnin' For the milkin' in the mornin', Ev'n the cow known for hornin' comes runnin' to her pail; The lambs play about her And the small bonneens' snout her,
Whilst their parints salute her wid a twisht of the tail. Oh, where, etc. When at noon from our labor
1 " Bonneens," young pigs. |
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