Maureen
O YOU plant the pain in my heart with your wistful eyes,
Girl of my choice, Maureen!
Will you drive me mad for the kisses your shy, sweet mouth denies,
Maureen?
Like a walking ghost I am, and no words to woo,
White rose of the West, Maureen:
For it’s pale you are, and the fear that’s on you is over me too,
Maureen!
Sure it’s one complaint that’s on us, asthore, this day,
Bride of my dreams, Maureen:
The smart of the bee that stung us his honey must cure, they say,
Maureen!
I’ll coax the light to your eyes, and the rose to your face,
Mavourneen, my own Maureen!
When I feel the warmth of your breast, and your nest is my arm’s embrace,
Maureen!
O where was the King o’ the World that day—only me?
My one true love, Maureen!
And you the Queen with me there, and your throne in my heart, machree,
Maureen!
Aghadoe
THERE’s a glade in Aghadoe, Aghadoe, Aghadoe,
There’s a green and silent glade in Aghadoe,
Where we met, my love and I, Love’s fair planet in the sky,
O’er that sweet and silent glade in Aghadoe.
There’s a glen in Aghadoe, Aghadoe, Aghadoe,
There’s a deep and secret glen in Aghadoe,
Where I hid from the eyes of the red-coats and their spies,
That year the trouble came to Aghadoe.