The Banks of the Boro: A Chronicle of the County of WexfordSimpkin, Marshall, 1867 - 375 ページ |
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Bantry barony bawn began Billy Blackstairs Boro breakfast Brian Roche bride bridge Bryan Bunclody Cahir Carlow castle Castleboro chapel Charley Clonroche Cloughbawn Courtnacuddy dance daughter dear Dublin Edward enjoy Enniscorthy eyes face fair Father James Father Murphy feel fellow felt friends gave gentleman girls give hand happy head hear heard heart hour Irish Jemmy Joanna kitchen Knockmore labour lady laugh lived look Mac Cracken marriage master mind Miss mistress Monamolin morning mother Mount Leinster neighbours never night noggins O'Brien once parlour passed Peggy poor prayers priest Rathnure Redmond road Roche round says side sitting Sleeveen soon spirit story Sunday suppose sure sweet Sweetman Taghmon tell Tench Theresa thing Tom Sweet took townland trouble turned walk Wexford White Mountain Whitney wife wish woman word young
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117 ページ - Spain. At wakes or hurling-matches your like we'll never see, Till you come back to us again, astore gra-gal-machree : And won't you throunce the buckeens that show us much disdain, Bekase our eyes are not so black as those you'll meet in Spain. If cruel fate will not permit our Johnny to return, His heavy loss we Bantry girls will never cease to mourn ; We'll resign ourselves to our sad lot, and die in grief and pain, (Since Johnny died for Ireland's pride in the foreign land of Spain, THE IRISHMEN...
229 ページ - And in my hand a dripping pan And I think myself a jolly old man; And if you don't believe what I say Enter in Devil Doubt, and clear the way.
355 ページ - I'll find my angel boy !" THE DEAR IRISH BOY. MY CON>TOR, 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...
227 ページ - Here am I, St. George ; From England have I sprung, One of these noble deeds of valour to begin. Seven long years in a close cave have I been kept, And out of that upon a prison leapt; And out of that upon a rock of stone, Where I made my sad and grievious moan.
364 ページ - The dark- screaming owl impedes my night's sleep, While lonely I walk in the shade of the evening, Till my. Connor's return I will ne'er cease to weep. Smiling, beguiling, &c. The war being over, and he not returned, I fear that some dark envious plot has been laid ; Or that some cruel goddess has him captivated, And left here to mourn his dear Irish maid. Smiling, beguiling, &c.
195 ページ - You gave it to me as a true lover's token, No longer with me, love, it shall remain." The bride she sat at the head of the table, The words he said she marked them right well ; To sit any longer she was not able, And down at the bridegroom's feet she fell. " One request I do make of you And I hope you will grant it to me, To lie this night in the arms of my mother, And ever, ever after to lie with thee.
117 ページ - Spain. The boys will sorely miss him, when Moneyhore comes round, And grieve that their bould captain is nowhere to be found; The peelers must stand idle, against their will and grain, For the valiant boy who gave them work now peels the King o
227 ページ - Room, room, brave gallants, Come give us room to rhyme, For I'm come to show my mirth And activity in Christmas time. " Active young and active age — The like was never acted on a stage. And if you believe not what I say, Enter in, St. George, and boldly clear the way.
234 ページ - The wren, the wren, The king of all birds, On St. Stephen's Day • Was caught in the furze.
364 ページ - 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, While lonely I walk in the shade of the evening, Till my.