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S6 |
HYLAND'S MAMMOTH |
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KATE OF GARNAVILLA.
Have you been at Garnavllla? Have you seen at Garnavllla Beauty's train trip o'er the plain With lovely Kate of Garnavllla? O, she's pure as virgin snows.
Ere they light on woodland hill-O; Sweet as dewdrop on wild rose.
Is lovely Kate ol Garnavllia! Philomel, I've listened oft
To thy lay, nigh weeping willow; O, the strain's more sweet, more soft. That flows from Kate of Garnavllla.
Have you been, etc. As a noble ship I've seen
Sailing o'er the swelling billow. So I've marked the graceful mien Of lovely Kate of Garnavllla.
Have you been, etc. If poets' prayers can banish cares,
No-cares shall come to Garnavilla; Joy's bright rays shall gild her days, And dove-like peace perch on her pillow. Charming maid of Garnavllla! Lovely maid of Garnavilla! Beauty, grace, and virtue wait On lovely Kate of Garnavilla! |
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KATY, DARLING.
The flowers are blooming, Katy darling,
And the birds are singing1 on each tree. Never mind your mother's cruel snarling.
My love, you know I'm waiting for thee; The sun is sweetly shining,
With his face so clear and bright. Haste to your lover, Katy, darling,
Ere the morning will change into night. Katy, Katy, The flowers are blooming, etc. Meet me in the valley, Katy, darling,
When the moon is shining o'er the sea, O, meet me near the stream, Katy, darling,
And tales of love I'll tell to thee; When the twinkling stars are peeping,
Sure these eyes shine far more bright, ' O, meet me In the valley, Katy, darling,
And our vows of love we'll pledge to-night. Faith, I'm smiling at your fears, Katy, darling.
Then you say you never can be mine— I've sworn by heaven, Katy, darling, ' That this heart, love, alone was thine! The sun Is sweetly shlnlug,
With his face so clear and bright, O, come to your lover, Katy, darling,
Ere the morning change into night.
OH! BAY OF DUBLIN.
Oh! Bay of Dublin; my heart you're troublln*,
Your beauty haunts me like a fevered dream, Like frozen fountains that the sun sets bubbling,
My heart's blood warms when I but hear your name; And never till this life pulse ceases,
My earliest thought you'll cease to be; Oh! there's no one here knows how fair that place !■,
And no one cares how dear It is to me. |
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