MAVOURNEEN, swate Isle, I am lonely widout thee, I sigh for your hills an' your calm sky so blue; Shure I niver had cause One shmall moment to doubt thee, An' whin I'm not thinkin' I'm dhreamin' of you. CHORUS. So lads, whin I call ye's, Come sing your "Come all Ye's," Ah! here's to ould Ireland, byes, ivery toime: Och, coleens, be aisy, Your dhrivin' me crazy, What day of our counthry is one half so foine? St. Patrick's the day, shure, It was in the mornin', An' oh! how it graved me, Mavourneen, to part; But I left ye's, as I Left me mother, a-mournin' An' kissin' the shamrock she placed near me heart. I'm sorry I left ye's To cross the deep wather, For the game that I've played wid misfortune's a draw; But don't ye be ailin', I'll soon be a-sailin' Away to the Isle of swate "Erin go Bragh." Then lend me the harp And I'll wake "Tipperary," Sing "By Killarney" wid "Noreen Maureen"; The shamrock I'm pressin', An' while I'm confessin' I'm praisin' St. Patrick an' "wearin' the green." | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...ANNABEL LEE by EDGAR ALLAN POE PEARLS OF THE FAITH: 77. AL-MUTAHALI by EDWIN ARNOLD LILIES: 6. MY BELOVED by GEORGE BARLOW (1847-1913) SONNET: 7 by RICHARD BARNFIELD THE METAMORPHOSIS OF THE WALNUT-TREE OF BOARSTELL: ECLOGUE by WILLIAM BASSE |