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Two turtle doves, above my head

Sat courting on a bough;

I envied not their happiness,

To see them bill and coo:
Such fondness once for me was shown
But now, alas! 'tis o'er.

Ah! Gramachree, etc.

Then fare thee well, my Molly dear,
Thy loss I e'er shall moan;
Whilst life remains in this fond heart,
"Twill beat for thee alone;
Tho' thou art false, may heaven on thee
Its choicest blessings pour.

Ah! Gramachree, etc.

THE GREEN ISLE.

FAIREST! put on a while

These pinions of light I bring thee, And o'er thy own green isle

In fancy let me wing thee. Never did Ariel's plume

At golden sunset hover O'er scenes so full of bloom, As I shall waft thee over.

Fields, where the Spring delays,

And fearlessly meets the ardor Of the warm Summer's gaze,

Ah! Gramachree, etc. Och, Terry, and I knew it, will become a great and mighty man,

There never was his equal, as I told him long ago;

He only had one failing, that he often was a flighty-man,

But sure that was the whisky, and not Terry's self, you know. But now that he has wiser grown, the whisky p'r'aps he'll let

With only her tears to guard her. Rocks, through myrtle boughs

In race majestic frowning, Like some bold warrior's brows

That Love hath just been crowning.

MARY OF TRALEE.

OCH hone! and is it true then that my love is coming back again?

And will his face like sunshine come to glad my cottage door? 'Tis then the clouds will wear away and never will look black again,

For he's written me a letter and we soon shall meet once

more.

He tells me he has gold in tore, but oh! he tells me something

more,

He says tho' we've been parted he has still been true to me; And I've to him been faithful too, and will my dream at last come true?

Perhaps it's in a coach and four he's coming back from sea.
He's coming back to me,
And he's welcome as the sunshine to Mary of Tralee.

Och, hone! when Terry went away, it's little we'd between us then,

We pledged our hearts, 'twas nothing else that we had got to pledge:

A heart of stone I'm sure it would have melted to have seen us then,

But the only stones that saw us were the cold ones 'neath the
hedge;

But now a lady he'll make me, and Terry Lord Lieutenant be,
And won't we keep a pig or two, if that should be the case!
But spite of all his gold in store, if we but meet to part no more,
I'd give up every penny jist to see his darlin' face,

For, he's comin' back to me,
And he's welcome as the sunshine to Mary of Tralee.

alone,

And if the boy for spirit lacks, he'll find enough in me;
For when I ride in all my state, and he a Duke, or Magistrate,
Sure not a pair more illigant in Dublin town you'll see.
For he's coming back to me,
And he's welcome as the sunshine to Mary of Tralee.
THE LAND OF POTATOES, O!

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