Here's a health to them that's awa. Here in solitude and silence....... I cannot sing the old songs........ I'll hang my harp on a willow tree... I'll never get drunk any more.. Lament of the Irish emigrant.. Jeave is a lock of your hair.. Live in my heart, and pay no rent.. 159 37 Norah darling, don't believe them. O), Erin, my country! my heart beats for thee. 212 O let me like a soldier fall. 112 Ould Ireland! you're my darlin'. Parody on the cottage by the sea.. Recruiting song for the Irish brigade. Pocked in the cradle of the deep... The beautiful maid of seventy. THE EMERALD SONGSTER THE VIGIL OF THE SHAN VAN VOCHT. (Written some twenty-three years ago by an intimate friend of Thomas Davis, and one of the earliest vriters in the cause of an uncomprising nationality.) 'T is a glorious moonlight night, Thought the Shan van Vocht; 'T is a glorious moonlight night, Said the Shan van Vocht : Said the Shan van Vocht. So she went down to the shore, Did the Shan van Vocht, Did the Shan van Vocht ; And she thought upon the time, To the Shan van Vocht. om care, Oh! who was once so fair As the Shan van Vocht ? So blithe and free As the Shan van Vocht? How glorious was her youth ! How grand her love and truth ! The bitterer now the ruth Of the Shan van Vocht ! Oh ! fearful grew the form Of the Shan van Vocht! Stood the Shan van Vocht! Thrilled the Shan van Vocht For like a tongue of flame, To the Shan van Vocht, Was the vision of her shame To the Shan van Vocht ! |
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