Street ballads, popular poetry, and household songs of Ireland, collected and arranged by Duncathail

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Page i - The spinsters and the knitters in the sun, And the free maids that weave their thread with bones, Do use to chant it ; it is silly sooth, And dallies with the innocence of love, Like the old age.
Page 108 - Eileen, I surely hear somebody sighing." " 'Tis the sound, mother dear, of the summer wind dying.
Page 223 - When she came down again Her friends were all gone. They took her lightly back Between the night and morrow; They thought that she was fast asleep, But she was dead with sorrow. They have kept her ever since Deep within the lake, On a bed of flag-leaves, Watching till she wake.
Page 223 - UP the airy mountain, Down the rushy glen, We daren't go a-hunting For fear of little men; Wee folk, good folk, Trooping all together; Green jacket, red cap, And white owl's feather!
Page 62 - Before GOD and the world I would answer you, no ! But if you would ask me, as I think it like, If in the rebellion I carried a pike, An' fought for ould Ireland from the first to the close, An...
Page 78 - Whillan* ahoy, old heart of stone! Stooping so black o'er the beach alone, Answer me well — on the bursting brine Saw you ever a bark like mine? On the tide-top, &c.
Page 163 - I've cried. For a little voice still calls me back To my far, far counthrie, And nobody can hear it spake Oh ! nobody but me. There is a little spot of ground Behind the chapel wall ; It's nothing but a tiny mound, Without a stone at all ; It rises like my heart just now, It makes a dawny hill ; It's from below the voice comes out, I cannot kape it still.
Page 58 - As soon as the boys wor all scattered and bate, 'Twas the custom, whenever a pisant was got, To hang him by thrial — -barrin' sich as was shot. There was thrial by jury goin' on by daylight, And the martial-law hangin' the lavins by night. It 's them was hard times for an honest gossoon : If he missed in the judges — he'd meet a dragoon; An' whether the sodgers or judges gev sentence, The divil a much time they allowed for repentance. An...
Page 202 - Sassenach and Cromweller, take heed of what I say — Keep down your black and angry looks, that scorn us night and day: For there's a just and wrathful Judge, that every action sees, And He'll make strong, to right our wrong, the faithful Rapparees ! The fearless Rapparees ! The men that rode by Sarsfield's side, the roving Rapparees ! CHARLES GAVAN DUFFY.
Page 148 - LONELY from my home I come, To cast myself upon your tomb, And to weep. Lonely from my lonesome home, My lonesome house of grief and gloom, While I keep Vigil often all night long, For your dear, dear sake, Praying many a prayer so wrong That my heart would break ! Gladly, O my blighted flower, Sweet Apple of my bosom's Tree, Would I now Stretch me in your dark death-bower Beside your corpse, and lovingly Kiss your brow. But we'll meet ere many a day Never more to part, For ev'n now I feel the clay...

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