lirik lagu andrew stein - the irish peasant girl
she lived beside the anner
at the foot of slievna-man
a gentle peasant girl
with mild eyes like the dawn;
her lips were dewy rosebuds;
her t–th of pearls rare;
and a snow-drift ‘neath a beechen bough
her neck and nut-brown hair
how pleasant was to meet her
on sunday when the bell
was filling with its mellow tone
lone wood and gr-ssy dell
and when at eve young maidens
strayed the river bank along
the widow’s brown-haired daughter
was loveliest of the throng
o brave, brave irish girls-
we well may call you brave!-
sure the least of all your perils
is the stormy ocean wave
when you leave our quiet valleys
and cross the atlantic’s foam
to h–rd your hard-won earnings
for the helpless ones at home
“write word to my own dear mother
say we’ll meet with god above;
and tell my little brothers
i send them all my love;
may the angels ever guide them
is their dying sister’s prayer”-
and folded in a letter
was a braid of nut-brown hair
ah cold and well-nigh callous
this weary heart has grown
for thy helpless fate, dear ireland
and for sorrows of my own
yet a tear, my eye will moisten
when by anner side i stray
for the lily of the mountain foot
that withered far away
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