Sixty Irish Songs

Front Cover
William Arms Fisher
O. Ditson Company, 1915 - Folk music - 201 pages

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Page x - A Selection of Irish Melodies; with Symphonies and Accompaniments by Sir John Stevenson, and Characteristic words by Thomas Moore.
Page 158 - Moyle ! be the roar of thy water, Break not, ye breezes, your chain of repose, While murmuring mournfully, Lir's lonely daughter Tells to the night-star her tale of woes.
Page iii - And there, alone with her lone heart and heaven, Thrushlike she sings, and lets her voice go free, Her soul of all its hidden longing shriven Soars on wild wings with her wild melody. Sweet in its plaintive Irish modulations, Her fresh young voice tuned to old sorrow seems, The passionate cry of countless generations Keenes in her breast as there she sings and dreams. No more, sad voice ; for now the dawn is breaking Through the long night, through Ireland's night of tears, New songs wake in the...
Page 150 - And women with petticoats coloured like flame. And little bare feet that were blue with cold, Went dancing back to the age of gold, And all the world went gay, went gay, For half an hour in the street to-day.
Page iii - Out of the twilight, where the brooding trees Hear Shannon's Druid waters chant for ever Tales of dead Kings and Bards and Shanachies ; A girl's young voice out of the twilight, singing Old songs beside the legendary stream ; A girl's clear voice, o'er the wan waters ringing, Beats with its wild wings at the Gates of Dream.
Page 79 - And to-morrow she shall hear, All my fond heart would say. I shall tell her all my love, All my soul's adoration, And I think she will hear me, And will not say me nay. It is this that...
Page 113 - Leinster field — my little Kerry cow. If herself went to the cattle fairs she'd put all cows to shame, For the finest poets of the land would meet to sing her fame; And the young girls would be asking leave to stroke her satin coat, They'd be praising and caressing her, and calling her a dote. If the King of Spain gets news of her he'll fill his purse with gold, And set sail to ask the English King where she is to be sold. But the King of Spain may come to me, a crown upon his brow. It is he may...

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