The Song Lore of Ireland: Erin's Story in Music and Verse

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Wessels & Bissell Company, 1910 - Folk music - 329 pages

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Page 200 - ... anatomies of death, they spake like ghosts crying out of their graves ; they did eat the dead carrions, happy where they could find them, yea, and one another soon after, insomuch as the very carcasses they spared not to scrape out of their graves ; and, if they found a plot of water-cresses or shamrocks, there they flocked as to a feast...
Page 133 - How often have I blest the coming day, When toil remitting lent its turn to play, And all the village train, from labour free, Led up their sports beneath the spreading tree...
Page 306 - Let them and me repose in obscurity and peace, and my tomb remain uninscribed, until other times, and other men, can do justice to my character; when my country takes her place among the nations of the earth, then, and not till then, let my epitaph be written. I have done.
Page 308 - I have seen the cow, the favourite cow, driven away, accompanied by the sighs, the tears and the imprecations of a whole family, who were paddling after, through wet and dirt, to take their last affectionate farewell of this their only friend and benefactor, at the pound gate. I have heard with emotions which I can scarcely describe, deep curses repeated from village to village as the cavalcade proceeded. I have witnessed the group pass the domain walls of the opulent grazier, whose numerous herds...
Page 301 - The dust of some is Irish earth; Among their own they rest; And the same land that gave them birth Has caught them to her breast; And we will pray that from their clay Full many a race may start Of true men, like you, men, To act as brave a part. They rose in dark and evil days To right their native land; They kindled here a living blaze That nothing shall withstand.
Page 205 - I could kneel all night in prayer, To heal your many ills! And one . . . beamy smile from you Would float like light between My toils and me, my own, my true, My Dark Rosaleen! My fond Rosaleen!
Page 134 - Succeeding sports the mirthful band inspired; The dancing pair that simply sought renown, By holding out to tire each other down; The swain mistrustless of his smutted face, While secret laughter tittered round the place...
Page 302 - They rose in dark and evil days To right their native land; They kindled here a living blaze That nothing shall withstand. Alas! that Might can vanquish Right — They fell and passed away; But true men, like you, men, Are plenty here to-day. Then here's their memory — may it be For us a guiding light, To cheer our strife for liberty, And teach us to unite. Through good and ill, be Ireland's still, Though sad as theirs your fate; And true men be you, men, Like those of Ninety-Eight!
Page 243 - I'm forced to go, And must leave my bones in Santa Cruz, far from my own Mayo. They are altered girls in Irrul now ; 'tis proud they're grown .and high, With their hair-bags and their top-knots, for I pass their buckles by ; But it's little now I heed their airs, for God will have it so, That I must depart for foreign lands, and leave my sweet Mayo.
Page 134 - The swain, mistrustless of his smutted face, While secret laughter titter'd round the place, The bashful virgin's sidelong looks of love, The matron's glance that would those looks reprove.

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