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IRISH SONGS AND LYRICS 37 |
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The little anchor on the right The great one on the left.
And now to thee, O captain,
Most earnestly I pray, That they may never bury me
In church or cloister gray; — But on the windy sea-beach,
At the ending of the land, All on the surfy sea-beach,
Deep down into the sand.
For there will come the sailors,
Their voices I shall hear, And at casting of the anchor
The yo-ho loud and clear; And at hauling of the anchor
The yo-ho and the cheer — Farewell my love, for to thy bay
I nevermore may steer.
THE WINDING BANKS OF ERNE; OR, THE EMIGRANT'S ADIEU TO BALLY-SHANNON
A LOCAL BALLAD I
A
DIEU to Belashanny! where I was bred and born; Go where I may, I'll think of you, as sure as night and morn — The kindly spot, the friendly town, where every one is known, |
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