And whistled the tune of “Erin go Bragh.”
In truth, I believe that I’m half broken-heart’d,
To my country and love I must get back again
For I’ve never been happy at all since I part’d
From sweet Ballymornach and Norah M’Shane.
Oh! there’s something so dear in the cot I was born in,
Tho’ the walls are but mud and the roof is but thatch;
How familiar the grunt of the pigs in the morning,—
What music in lifting the rusty old latch!
’Tis true I’d no money, but then I’d no sorrow,