When her voice gives the warnin’
For the milkin’ in the mornin’
Ev’n the cow known for hornin’, comes runnin’ to her pail;
The lambs play about her
And the small bonneens[17] snout her
Whilst their parints salute her wid a twisht of the tail.
O, where, etc.
When at noon from our labour
We draw neighbour wid neighbour
From the heat of the sun to the shelter of the tree,
Wid spuds[18] fresh from the bilin’,
And new milk, you come smilin’,
All the boys’ hearts beguilin’, alannah machree![19]
O, where, etc.
But there’s one sweeter hour
When the hot day is o’er,
And we rest at the door wid the bright moon above,
And she’s sittin’ in the middle,
When she’s guessed Larry’s riddle,
Cries, “Now for your fiddle, Shiel Dhuv, Shiel Dhuv.”
O, where
Can her like be found?
No where
The country round,
Spins at her wheel
Daughter as true,
Sets in the reel,
Wid a slide of the shoe
a slinderer,
tinderer,
purtier,
wittier colleen than you,
Rose, aroo!
The Song of the Pratee.
When after the Winter alarmin’,
The Spring steps in so charmin’,
So fresh and arch
In the middle of March,
Wid her hand St Patrick’s arm on,
Let us all, let us all be goin’,
Agra, to assist at your sowin’,
The girls to spread
Your iligant bed,
And the boys to set the hoe in.
Chorus—
Then good speed to your seed! God’s grace and increase.
Never more in our need may you blacken wid the blight;
But when summer is o’er, in our gardens, asthore,
May the fruit at your root fill our bosoms wid delight.