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HYLAND'S MAMMOTH |
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MOLLY, ASTHORE.
As down by Banna's banks I strayed, one evening in May,
The little birds in blithest notes made vocal every spray;
They sung their little notes of love, they sung them o'er and o'er—
Ah I gramachree, my colleen oge, my Molly, asthore.
The daisy pied and all the sweets the dawn of Nature yields, The primrose pale, the violet blue, lay scattered o'er the fields, Such fragrance in the hosom lies of her whom I adore, Ah! gramachree, my colleen oge, my Molly, asthore.
I laid me down upon a bank, bewailing my sad fate, That doomed me thus a slave to love, and cruel Molly's hate; How can she break the honest heart that wears her in its core? Ah! gramachree, my colleen oge, my Molly, asthore.
You said you loved me, Molly, dear—ah! why did I believe? Yet who could think such tender words were meant but to deceive, That love was all I asked on eath—nay! heaven could give no more.-Ah! gramachree, my colleen oge, my Molly, asthore.
Oh! had I all the flocks that graze on yonder yellow hill. Or lowed for me the numerous herds that yon green pasture fill, With her I love I'd gladly share my kine and fleecy store, Ah! gramachree, my colleen oge, my Molly, asthore.
Two turtle-doves above my head, sat courting on a bough, I envied them their happiness to see them bill and coo, Such fondness once for me was shown, but now, alas! 'tis o'er, Ah! gramachree, my colleen oge, my Molly, asthore.
Then fare thee well, my Molly dear, thy loss I e'er shall mourn, "While life remains in Stephen's heart 'twill beat for thee alone, Though thou art false, may heaven on thee its choicest blessings pour, Ah! gramachree, my colleen oge, my Molly, asthore. |
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NORA O'NEAL.
Oh! I'm lonely to-night, love, without you,
And I sigh for one glance of your eye; For sure, there's a charm, love, about you,
Whenever I know you are nigh. Like the beam of the star when 'tis smiling,
Is the glance which your eye can't conceal, And your voice is so sweet and beguiling
That I love you, sweet Nora O'Neal.
Chorus.—Oh! don't think that ever I'll doubt you. My love I will never conceal, Oh! I'm lonely to-night, love, without you, My darling, sweet Nora O'Neal!
Oh! the nightingale sings in the wild-wood,
As if every note that he knew Was learned from your sweet voice in childhood,
To remind me, sweet Nora, of you. But I think, love, so often about you,
And you don't know how happy I feel, But I'm lonely to-night, love, without you,
My darling, sweet Nora O'Neal!
Oh! don't think, etc.
Oh! why should I weep tears of sorrow,
Oh! why let hope lose its place? Won't I meet you, my darling, to-morrow,
And smile on your beautiful face? Will you meet me? O! say you will meet me
With a kiss at the foot of the lane. And I'll promise whenever you greet me
That I'll never be lonely again.
Oh! don't think, etc. |
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