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admirable Arrah Avondhu ballad bard beauty Blarney bosom boys brave bright bumper called celebrated Charles Lever charming cheek cushla ma chree dark dark Rosaleen darling dear drink Dublin e'er Eileen aroon Erin fair fame father flowers fond Garnavilla Garryowen Gerald Griffin girl give glory Gra-ma-chree green harp heart heaven honour Ireland Irish Melodies Irish Volunteers Jacobite John Banim John Philpot Curran Kilkenny King lady land lines Lochaber Lord lover lyric maid Malone Molly Moore morning mountain Music of Ireland native ne'er never night o'er poet river Lee round Samuel Lover Says the Shan Scotland Shan Van Vogh Shandon Sheridan sigh sing sleep smile Soggarth aroon song soul spirit sung sure sweet tears tell thee There's thine thou Translated true Twas verse whiskey Widow Machree wild wine words young
Page 170 - I've heard bells tolling Old Adrian's mole in, Their thunder rolling From the Vatican ; And cymbals glorious Swinging uproarious In the gorgeous turrets Of Notre Dame. But thy sounds were sweeter Than the dome of Peter Flings o'er the Tiber, Pealing solemnly: Oh, the bells of Shandon Sound far more grand on The pleasant waters Of the river Lee.
Page 3 - ONE day I wrote her name upon the strand ; But came the waves, and washed it away : Agayne, I wrote it with a second hand ; But came the tyde, and made my paynes his pray. Vayne man, sayd she, that doest in vaine assay A mortall thing so to immortalize ; For I my selve shall lyke to this decay, And eke my name bee wyped out lykewize. Not so...
Page 6 - The corn was springin' fresh and green, And the lark sang loud and high, And the red was on your lip, Mary, And the love-light in your eye. The place is little changed, Mary, The day is bright as then, The lark's loud song is in my ear, And the corn is green again; But I miss the soft clasp of your hand, And your breath, warm on my cheek: And I still keep list'nin' for the words You never more will speak.
Page 64 - SHALL I, wasting in despair, Die because a woman's fair? Or make pale my cheeks with care 'Cause another's rosy are? Be she fairer than the day, Or the flowery meads in May, If she think not well of me, What care I how fair she be?
Page 78 - I'll warrant she'll prove an excuse for the glass. Here's to the charmer whose dimples we prize ; Now to the maid who has none, sir : Here's to the girl with a pair of blue eyes, And here's to the nymph with but one, sir.
Page 121 - So lovely the Widow Malone. Of lovers she had a full score, or more, And fortunes they all had galore, in store; From the minister down to the clerk of the crown, All were courting the Widow Malone, ohone! All were courting the Widow Malone. But so modest was Mistress Malone, 'twas known, That no one could see her alone, ohone!
Page 12 - Go, forget me — why should sorrow O'er that brow a shadow fling ? Go, forget me — and to-morrow Brightly smile and sweetly sing. Smile — though I shall not be near thee ; Sing — though I shall never hear thee ; May thy soul with pleasure shine Lasting as the gloom of mine ! Go, forget me, etc.
Page 246 - Woe and pain, pain and woe, Are my lot, night and noon, To see your bright face clouded so, Like to the mournful moon. But yet will I rear your throne Again in golden sheen ; 'Tis you shall reign, shall reign alone, My Dark Rosaleen...