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HIBERNIAN SONGSTER. |
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Och!' Norah dear! I'm waiting here,
The stars look cold and blue, love; Their twinkling rays have come to gaze
To see how bright are you, love. The breeze that brings such balmy things
From all that bright and fair, lov», It sighs to sip from thy sweet lip
The perfume that lies there, love. |
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PASTHEEN FION.
Oh, my fair Pastheen is my heart's delight;
Her gay heart laughs in her blue eye bright;
Like the apple blossom her bosom white,
And her neck like the swan's on a March morn bright!
Then, Oro, come with me! come with me! come with me!
Oro, come with me! brown girl, sweet!
And, oh! I would go through snow and sleet
If you would come with me, my brown girl, sweet!
Love of my heart, my fair Pastheen!
Her cheeks are as red as the rose's sheen,
But my lips have tasted no more, I ween,
Than the glass I drank to the health of my queen!
Then, Oro, come, etc. Were I in the town, Where's mirth and glee, Or twlxt two barrels of barley bree, With my fair Pastheen upon my knee, 'Tis I would drink to her pleasantly!
Then, Oro, come, etc. Nine nights I lay in longing and pain, Betwixt two bushes, beneath the rain, Thinking to see you, love once again; But whistle and call were all in vain!
Then, Oro, come, etc. I'll leave my people, hoth friend and foe; From all the girls in the world's I'll go; But from you, sweetheart, oh, never! oh, no! Till I lie in the coffin stretched, cold and low!
Then, Oro, come, etc. |
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RORY O'MORE.
Young Rory O'More courted Kathleen Bawn;
He was bold as a hawk, and she soft as the dawn;
He wished in his heart pretty Kathleen to please,
And he thought the best way to do that was to tease.
"Now, Rory, be aisy," sweet Kathleen would cry,
Reproof on her lip, but a smile in her eye:
"With your tricks, I don't know, in troth, what I'm about,
Faith, you've teazed till I've put on my cloak inside out."
"Oh, jewel," says Rory, "that same is the way
You've thrated my heart for this many a day:
And 'tis plazed that I am; and why not, to be sure?
For it's all for good luck," says bold Rory O'More.
"Indeed, then," says Kathleen, "don't think of the like,
For I half gave a promise to soothering Mike:
The ground that I walk on he loves, I'll be bound."
"Faith," says Rory, "I'd rather love you than the ground."
"Now Rory, I'll cry if you don't let me go:
Sure I dream every night that I'm hating you so!"
"O!" says Rory, "that same I'm delighted to hear,
For dhramcs always go by conthraries, my dear.
"Oh! jewel, keep dhraming that same till you die.
And bright morning will give dirty night the black lie;
And 'tis plazed that I am; and why not to be sure?
Since 'tis all for good luck," says bold Rory O'More. |
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