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And, och, such a jewel is shining in

side,

I don't mean a jewel that money can

buy,

But a warm-hearted creature with love in her eye;

You'll not find a beauty so beauteous as she, From Ballinacrasy to Donaghadee.

Her name is O'Brien, they christened her Kate;

There's many a beauty has shared the same fate;

But never a one to my thinking I've

seen

So lovely, so trim, as my bright-eyed Colleen :

Her face is a picture for limners to paint; Her figure might serve for a heart-winning saint;

Oh, you'll not find a beauty so beauteous as she,

From Ballinacrasy to Donaghadee.

Her hair, it is smooth as the raven's own back,

But the bonniest bird has not tresses so

black;

And they curl round a neck that might rival the snow,

With the grace of the swan on the waters below.

"

Her mouth, oh, what music I 've heard from that same !

He breath, it might put the sweet roses to shame;

Oh, you'll not find a beauty so beauteous as she,

From Ballinacrasy to Donaghadee.

DUBLIN BAY.

MRS. CRAWFORD.

He sail'd away in a gallant bark,

Roy Neill and his fair young bride, He had ventur'd all in that bounding

ark,

That danced o'er the silver tide.

But his heart was young and his spirit light,

And he dashed the tear away,

As he watched the shore recede from

sight,

Of his own sweet Dublin Bay.

Three days they sail'd, and a storm arose, And the lightning swept the deep,

And the thunder-crash broke the short

repose,

Of the weary sea-boy's sleep.

Roy Neill, he clasped his weeping bride, And he kiss'd her tears away,

66

66

Oh, love 't was a fatal hour," she cried, When we left sweet Dublin Bay." On the crowded deck of the doomed ship, Some stood in their mute despair, And some more calm, with a holy lip,

Sought the God of the storm in prayer. "She has struck on the rock!" the seamen cried,

In the breath of their wild dismay, And the ship went down and the fair young bride,

That sailed from Dublin Bay.

LIVE IN MY HEART, AND PAY NO RENT.

SAMUEL LOVER,

VOURNEEN, when your days were bright, Never an eye did I care to lift to you, But, now, in your fortune's blight,

False ones are flying in sunshine that knew you.

But still on one welcome true rely,

Tho' the crops may fail and the cow go

dry,

And your cabin be burn'd, and all be spent,

Come live in my heart, and pay no rent, Live in my heart, mavourneen.

Vourneen, dry up those tears,

The sensible people will tell you to wait dear,

But, ah! in the wasting of love's young years,

On our innocent hearts we're committing a chate dear;

For hearts when they're young should make the vow,

For when they are old they don't know how,

So marry at once and you'll not repent, When you live in my heart and pay no

rent,

Live in my heart, mavourneen.

THE DEAR IRISH BOY.

My Conner, his cheeks are as ruddy as morning,

The brightest of pearls do but mimic his teeth;

While nature with ringlets his mild brows adorning,

His hair Cupid's bow-strings, and roses his breath.

Smiling, beguiling,
Cheering, endearing,

Together how oft o'er the mountains we stray'd;

By each other delighted,
And fondly united,

I have listened all day to my dear Irish boy.

No roebuck more swift could fly over the mountain,

No veteran bolder meet danger or

scars,

He's sightly, he's sprightly, he's clear as the fountain,

His eyes beaming love, oh! he's gone to the wars.

Smiling, beguiling, &c.

The soft tuneful lark, his notes changed to mourning,

The dark-screaming owl impedes my night's sleep,

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