by Arthur Stringer
A ROO , but there's singin' I've struck up
Wid niver a note to be heard,
When me heart widout sthirrin' the silence
Shtood by me and sang like a bird!
So if all the ould dreams that escaped me
Were sung to the chunes that got free,
I'd be weavin' ye rainbows av rapture
And shamin' the thrush, ma-chree!
But och, 'tis the birds that are ailin',
Bide close by our coaxin' and sing;
'Tis the music worth housin' and keepin'
Foriver makes off on the wing!
Last updated January 14, 2019