| Share page | Visit Us On FB |
|
154 THE GOLDEN TREASURY OF |
||
|
You wor sweeter, with cheeks so red, love,
And beautiful head, love, Gatherin' up the golden grain.
Bindin' the oats in sweet September,
Don't you remember The stolen pogue ? 1 How could I help but there deliver
My heart forever To such a beautiful little rogue ?
Bindin' the oats, 'twas there you found me,
There you bound me That harvest day! Ah ! that I in your blessed bond, love.
Fair and fond, love, Happy, forever and ever, stay ! |
||
|
SEED-TIME
i
T
HE top of the mornin' to you, Mick, Isn't it fine an' dhry an' still ? Just an elegant day, avic,
To stick the toleys on Tullagh hill. The field is turned, an' every clod
In ridge an' furrow is fresh an' brown; So let's away, with the help o' God,
By the heel o' the evenin' we'll have them down. |
||
|
1 Pogne, kiss. |
||