The days were sad without you, the nights long and drear, My dreams have been about you, oh, welcome, Willie, dear. Last night I wept and watched, by the moonlight's cheerless ray, Till I thought I heard your footstep, when I wiped my tears away; But my heart grew sad again, when I found you had not come; Oh, Willie, we have missed youwelcome, welcome home. A CURE FOR THE NIGHTMARE. VEN I lies mineself down in mine lonely ped-room, Un dries for to shleep very sound, De treams, oh how into mine head dey vill come, Till I vish I vas under de ground Yaw, ground, Un I vish I vas under de ground! Zomedimes, ven I eats a pig supper, I treams Dat my shtomach is filled up mit shtones; Un out in my shleep, like de night-owl, I shcreams, Un kicks off de ped-clothes, un groans Yaw, groans, Un kicks off de ped-clothes, un groans ! "Den dere as I lies, mit de ped-clothes all off, I gits mineself all ofer froze; In de morning I vakes mit a head-ache un cough, Un I'm zick from mine head to mine toes Yaw, toes, Un I'm zick from mine head to mine toes. Oh, vot shall pe done for a poor mans like me? Oh, vot for I lead zuch a life? Zome says dere's a cure for dis droubles of me : Dinks I'll try it, un-git me a vife, Yaw, vife Dinks I'll try it, un git me a frow. THE YOUNG MAY MOON. THE young May Moon is beaming, love, The glowworm's lamp is gleaming, love; How sweet to rove Through Morna's grove, While the drowsy world is dreaming, love, Then awake the heavens look bright, my dear, 'Tis never too late for delight, my dear, And the best of all ways To lengthen our days Is to steal a few hours from the night, my dear. Now all the world is sleeping, love, But the sage, his star-watch keeping, love, And I, whose star, Is the eye from that casement peeping, love, Then awake!-till the rise of the sun, my dear, The sage's glass we'll shun, my dear, Of bodies of light, He might happen to take thee for one, my dear. OH! BAY OF DUBLIN. LADY DUFFERIN. Оn! Bay of Dublin; my heart you're troublin', Your beauty haunts me like a fevered dream, Like frozen fountains, that the sun sets bubbling, My heart's blood warms when I but hear your name; And never till this life pulse ceases, ; My earliest thought you'll cease to be Oh! there's no one here knows how fair that place is, And no one cares how dear it is to me. Sweet Wicklow mountains! the sunlight sleeping On your green banks is a picture rare, You crowd around me, like young girls peeping, And puzzling me to say which is most fair; As tho' you'd see your own sweet faces, Reflected in that smooth and silver sea, Oh my blessin' on those lovely places, Tho' no one cares how dear they are to me. How often when at work I'm sitting, I think I see the neighbors' faces Oh tho' no one knows how fair that place is, Heaven knows how dear my poor home was to me. RECRUITING SONG FOR THE IRISH Is there a youthful gallant here Who scorns to own a Saxon Lord, And toils to swell a stranger's hoard? |