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IRISH SONGS AND LYRICS 473 |
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JOHN WALSH (1835-1881)
DRIMIN DONN DILIS1
O
H ! drimin donn dilis I the landlord has come, Like a foul blast of death has he swept o'er our home; He has withered our roof-tree—beneath the cold sky, Poor, houseless, and homeless, to-night must we lie.
My heart it is cold as the white winter's snow; My brain is on fire, and my blood's in a glow. Oh ! drimin donn dilis, 'tis hard to forgive When a robber denies us the right we should live.
With my health and my strength, with hard labor and
toil, I dried the wet marsh and I tilled the harsh soil; I moiled the long day through, from morn until even, And I thought in my heart I'd a foretaste of heaven.
The summer shone round us above and below, The beautiful summer that makes the flowers blow: Oh ! 'tis hard to forget it, and think I must bear That strangers shall reap the reward of my care. |
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1 Drimin donn dilis, " Dear brown cow." |
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