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240 THE GOLDEN TREASURY OF |
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My gold-haired Moran kissed me,
(Oh ! bleeding heart so sore !) " 'Tis back we'll be at mornin'
With a brimming boat galore; 'Tis home we'll come at mornin',
When the full tide flows." Ah ! his words are with me ever
While the west wind blows.
I'm leavin' of Kilyonan,
An' the ocean's wicked waves, My keenest woe that never
I may kneel o'er their graves. But I'll pray to God, our Father,
He will grant their souls repose; He will ease my bitter sorrow
While the west wind blows ! |
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