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baby dear ballad Bawn beautiful blessed bosom boys brave bright brow Cailin Caoch O'Leary Carrigaline cheek cold Cork Cork city dark dawn death dreams Dublin Erinn eyes fair fairy flowers gallant geal mo chroidhe gentle Glanmire glen Glen of Aherlow Glenara Glengariffe's breast gloom glory glow golden gone gradh geal mo grave green grey grief hand heart Heaven hills Hush Innisfail Ireland Irish land light Limerick lips lonely Michael Dwyer moon morning mother mountain neath never night o'er old blind mare OWEN REILLY pale poor Rapparees river Robert Dwyer Joyce round Roving Brian O'Connell Saxon Says the Shan shamrock Shan van Vocht shine shore sing sleep smile soft song sorrow soul stars streams sweet sword tears thee thou tide top Tipperary Twas voice wander wave weary Wexford wild William Allingham wind woods young
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 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...