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IRISH SONGS AND LYRICS |
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The waters run by mossy cliff, and bank with wild
flowers gay; The girls will bring their work and sing beneath a
twisted thorn, Or stray with sweethearts down the path among the
growing corn; Along the riverside they go, where I have often
been — Oh ! never shall I see again the days that I have
seen ! A thousand chances are to one I never may return — Adieu to Belashanny, and the winding banks of Erne.
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Adieu to evening dances, when merry neighbours
meet, And the fiddle says to boys and girls : " Get up and
shake your feet! " To "shanachus" and wise old talk of Erin's days
gone by — Who trench d the rath on such a hill, and where the
bones may lie Of saint, or king, or warrior chief; with tales of fairy
power, And tender ditties sweetly sung to pass the twilight
hour. The mournful song of exile is now for me to learn — Adieu, my dear .companions on the winding banks of
Erne !
IX
Now measure from the Commons dowr. to each end of the Purt, |
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