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IRISH SONGS AND LYRICS 333 |
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MARY FURLONG (1868-1898)
AN IRISH LOVE-SONG
I
love you, and I love you, and I love you, O my honey! It isn't for your goodly lands, it isn't for your money; It isn't for your father's cows, your mother's yellow
butter, The love that's in my heart for you no words of mine may utter!
The whole world is gone wrong with me since yestermorning early,
Above the shoulder of Sliav Ruadh the sun was peeping barely,
Your light feet scarcely stirred the dew among the scented clover;
O happy dew, O happy grass, those little feet went over !
The breeze had coaxed your nut-brown hair beneath
the white sunbonnet, The sunbeams kissed the corn-flowers blue that you
had fastened on it, And danced and danced, and quivered down your
gown of colored cotton; And when I looked upon your face I fear I'd quite
forgotten — |
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