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IRISH SONGS AND LYRICS 413 |
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Oh ! sweet were his words as the honey that falls in the night,
And his young smiling face like May-bloom was fresh, and as bright;
His eyes were like dew on the flower of the sweet apple-tree ;
My heart's -spring and summer was Draherin O Machree !
He went to the wars when proud England united with France;
His regiment was first in the red battle-charge to advance ;
But when night drew its veil o'er the glory and life-wasting fray,
Pale, bleeding, and cold lay my Draherin O Machree !
Oh ! if I were there, I'd watch over my darling's last
breath, I'd wipe his cold brow, and I'd soften his pillow of
death; I'd pour the hot tears of my heart's melting anguish
o'er thee! Oh, blossom of beauty ! my Draherin O Machree !
Now I'm left to weep, like the sorrowful bird of the
night, This earth and its pleasures no more shall afford me
delight; The dark narrow grave is the only sad refuge for me, Since I lost my heart's darling—my Draherin O
Machree! |
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