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HIBERNIAN SONGSTER. |
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O blessed Virgin Mary, mine is a mournful tale, A poor blind prisoner bere I am, in Dublin's dreary jail; Struck blind within the trenches, where I never feared the toe, And now I'll never see again my own sweet Aherlow.
A poor neglected mendicant I wandered through the street, My nine months' pension now being out I beg from ail I m«t; As I joined my country's tyrants, my face I'll never show Among the kind old neighbors in the Glen of Aherlow.
Then, Irish youths—dear countrymen—take heed of what I say, For if you join the English ranks you'll surely rue the day; And whenever you are tempted a soldiering to go. Remember poor blind Sheehan of the Glen of Aherlow. |
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I LEET IRELAND AND MOTHER BECAUSE WE WERE POOR.
There's a dear spot in Ireland that I long to see, It's my own native birth-place, and it's heaven to me; Shure my poor widowed mother lived there all alone. With my brothers and sisters 'twas a bright, happy home. Shure we hadn't much money, but my own mother, dear, To me gave her blessing, bade my heart be good cheer; Then the shadow of poverty darkened our door, And I left Ireland and mother because we were poor. Chorus.—Oh! my thoughts oft go back to that dear little spot. To my brothers and sisters, and the little thatched cot, To my poor widowed mother—I'll ne'er see her more, 'Twas a shame, but I left her because we were poor. I will never forget, on that bright, rosy morn When old Ireland I left, how my poor heart did mourn, When my blessed old mother said be of good cheer. Good-bye, Michael, darling—farewell, mother, dear. Then my brothers and sisters took me by the hand, And bade me do right when I left Ireland; Then I bade them good-bye at our cottage door, And left Ireland and mother because we were poor.
Oh! my thoughts oft go back, etc. Since leaving old Ireland my poor mother's dead, God bless and protect him, were the fast words she said; And the ring that my father gave she sent to me, 'Tis a far dearer prize than bright gems could e'er be. And my brothers and sisters I wish they were here, For I'm longing to see them, but they'll come, never fear; I've a neat little cot on America's shore, "Where happy we'll live, yes, although we are poor.
Oh! my thoughts oft so back, etc. |
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DEAR LITTLE COLLEEN.
Soon you'll be sailing o'er the wide ocean.
Leaving old Erin to see it no more; Tears that are falling speak my devotion,
Dear little Colleen, 'tis you I adore. Oh! bring me my darling to bless and to cheer me,
One sweet bit of shamrock from over the sea; Fondly 'twill whisper when you are near me,
Whisper, dear Colleen, of home unto me. Chorus.—Oh! bring me my darling to bless and to cheer me. One sweet bit of shamrock from over the sea;
Fondly 'twill whisper when you are near me, Whisper, dear Colleen, of home unto me. Weary, I've waited, most broken-hearted,
Dreaming of days when we strayed side by side; Life has been lonely since we were parted.
Dear little Colleen, my treasure and pride. |
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