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20J HYLAND'S MAMMOTH
'Tis true he has a weakness
For a drop of something pure. But that's a slight debility
That many more endure. He's fond of fun, he's witty.
Though his wit 'tis not too keen. For there's feeling hearts in Erin,
Where the grass grows green.
I love my aativi country, etc.
There's not a true-born Irishman,
Wherever he may be, But loves the little emerald ' That sparkles on the sea. May the sun of bright prosperity
Shine peaceful and serene, And bring better days to Erin,
Where the grass grows green.
I love my native country, etc. |
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MAUREEN- MAVOURNEEN.
Maureen Mavourneen, now list to my calling1.
As softly 'tis echoed from woodland and brake; From the wings of the night are silently falling
The shadows that sleep on the breast of the lake. Oh, see where the moonlight is kissing the hill,
And Venus is lighting her lamp in the sky; Then come with me, Maureen, we'll wander at will,
And breathe the sweet perfume the night flowers sigh.
Oh, could we thus ever drink deep of the bliss,
That flows from the fount of our young hearts' fond love; Like a smile of yon heaven reflected in this,
Oh, who from Kiliarney could tempt us to rove? As peaceful and calm as that lake, that we see
Reposing- to-night in its beauty serene; Would the hours of a life that's centered in thee,
Plow pure and unchanging, my colleen Maureen. |
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THE GLEN OF AHERLOW.
My name is Patrick Sheehan, my years are thirty-four, Tipperary is my native place, not far from Galtymore; I came of honest parents—but now they're lying iow— And many a pleasant day I spent in the Glen of Aherlow.
My father died, I closed his eyes outside our cabin door—
The landlord and the sheriff, too, were there the day before—
And then my loving mother, and sisters three also,
Were forced to go with broken hearts from the Glen of Aherlow.
For three long months, in search of work, X wandered far and near;
I went then to the poor-house to see my mother dear;
The news I heard nigh broke my heart, but still, in all my woe,
I blessed the friends who made their graves in the Glen of Aherlow.
Bereft of home, and kith and kin, with plenty all around, I starved within my cabin, and slept upon the ground; But cruel as my lot was, I ne'er did hardship know, 'Till I Joined the English army, far away from Aherlow.
"Rouse up there," says the corporal, "you lazy Hirish 'ound; Why, don't you hear, you sleepy dog, the call 'to arms!' sound?" Alas, I had been dreaming of days long, .long ago; \ woke before Sebastopol, and not in Aherlow.
I groped to And my musket—how dark I thought the night;
0 blessed God, it was not dark, it was the broad daylight! And when I found that I was blind my tears began to flow,
1 l«mged for even a pauper's grave in the Glen of Aherlow. |
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