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IRISH SONGS AND LYRICS 279 |
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FRANCIS A. FAHY (1854- )
IRISH MOLLY O.
O
H ! fairer than the lily tall, and sweeter than the rose, As modest as the violet in dewy dell that blows; With heart as warm as summer noon, and pure as
winter snow — The pride of Erin's isle is she, dear Irish Molly O !
No linnet of the hazel grove than she more sweetly
sang, No sorrow could be resting where her guileless laughter
rang,
No hall of light could half so bright as that poor cabin
glow Where shone the face of love and grace of Irish
Molly O!
But fever's breath struck down in death her father
strong and brave, And who should now his little ones from want and
sorrow save ? " Oh, never fear, my mother dear, across the seas
I'll go, And win for ye a new home there," said Irish
Molly O! |
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