Irish Songs and Ballads

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D. Bogue, 1882 - Songs - 275 pages

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Page 71 - FATHER O'FLYNN OF priests we can offer a charmin' variety, Far renowned for larnin' and piety ; Still, I'd advance ye, widout impropriety. Father O'Flynn as the flower of them all. CHORUS Here's a health to you, Father O'Flynn, Slainte, and slainte, and slainte agin; Powerfulest preacher, and Tenderest teacher, and Kindliest creature in ould Donegal.
Page 228 - O'Flynn you've the wonderful way wid you, All ould sinners are wishful to pray wid you, All the young childer are wild for to play wid you. You've such a way wid you, Father avick ! Still for all you've so gentle a soul, Gad, you've your flock in the grandest control ; Checking the crazy ones, Coaxin' onaisy ones, Liftin' the lazy ones on wid the stick.
Page 236 - Aquals her sittin' an' takin' a twirl at it. Look at her there — Night in her hair, The blue ray of day from her eye...
Page 203 - Earth is a prison, Full of my lonesome sighs: Then awake and discover, To thy fond lover, The morn of thy matchless eyes. The dawn is dark to me, Hark! oh, hark to me, Pulse of my heart, I pray! And out of thy hiding With blushes gliding, Dazzle me with thy day. Ah, then once more to thee Flying I '11 pour to thee Passion so sweet and gay, The larks shall listen, And dew-drops glisten, Laughing on every spray.
Page 237 - Aquals her sittin' an' takin' a twirl at it. Talk of Three Fates, Seated on sates, Spinnin' and shearin' away till they've done for me! You may want three For your massacree, But one Fate for me, boys — and only the one for me ! And isn't that fate •Pictured complate — An ould Irish wheel wid a young Irish girl at it? Oh no! Nothin' you 'll show Aquals her sittin' an' takin
Page 222 - His look was cheerful, his voice was gay: Your speech is fearful, your look is gray; And sad and sunken your eye of blue, But Patrick, Patrick, alas 'tis you.
Page 94 - Shrovetide, like a swan among the ships. And we both were constant to ye till the bitter, bitter day, Whin the typhus took my darlin', and she pined and pined away, Till yourself's the only sweetheart that was left me on the say. So through fair and foul we'd travel, you and I thin, usen't we ; The same ould coorse from Galway Bay, by Limerick and Tralee, Till this storm it shook me overboard, and murthered you, machree. But now, agra, the unruly wind has flown into the west, And the silver moon...
Page 66 - I've stood, Delighted in the dew, Looking down across the wood, Where it stole into my view — Sweet spirit of the sod, Of our own Irish Earth, Going gently up to God From the poor man's hearth. O the blue, blue smoke Of my cottage in the coom, Softly wreathing, Sweetly breathing My thousand welcomes home.
Page 222 - I'll come crowning Your combs with gold." When all were dreaming But Pastheen Power, A light went streaming From out her bower ; And on the morrow, When they awoke, They knew that sorrow Her heart had broke.
Page 227 - O'Flynn as the flower of them all. CHORUS. — Herds a health to you, Father OFlynn, Slainte* and slainte, and slainte agin ; Powerfulest preacher, and Tinderest teacher, and Kindliest creature in ould Donegal. Don't talk of your Provost and Fellows of Trinity, Famous for ever at Greek and Latinity...

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