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IRISH SONGS AND LYRICS |
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They bid me to the wake, the fair, To dances on the neighb'ring lea :
But how can I in pleasure share, While my true love is out at sea ?
The flowers droop till light's return, The pigeon mourns its absent she;
So will I droop, so will I mourn,
Till my true love comes back from sea.
II
How happy is the sailor's life,
From coast to coast to roam; In every port he finds a wife,
In every land a home. He loves to range, he's nowhere strange;
He ne'er will turn his back To friend or foe; no, masters, no;
My life for honest Jack.
If saucy foes dare make a noise,
And to the sword appeal; We out, and quickly larn 'em, boys,
With whom they have to deal. We know no craft but 'fore and aft,
Lay on our strokes amain; Then, if they're stout, for 't'other bout,
We drub 'em o'er again.
Or fair or foul, let Fortune blow,
Our hearts are never dull; The pocket that to-day ebbs low,
To-morrow shall be full: |
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