 | Songs of Killarney |  |
85
THE IRISH SPINNING WHEEL.
“Sing me a song,
Shiel, Shiel—
As my foot on the reel
Goes guidin' the wheel
Along.
For I keep better time
To a musical rhyme,
Than without.”
Shiel, Shiel—
As my foot on the reel
Goes guidin' the wheel
Along.
For I keep better time
To a musical rhyme,
Than without.”
“No doubt—
But Roseen, yourself start a tune—
For I've heard
How a bird
That sings by the light of the moon,
Away over the ocean,
Once took up a notion,
The vain little elf, that he'd fly
To Ireland itself on the sly,
And prove all the songs of our sky
Wid the tone
Of his own,
Could never at all at all vie—
And he thought himself surely the best,
And 'twas true for him p'r'aps of the rest;
But we've all understood
Meetin' you in the wood,
As you warbled ‘The Land of the West.’
He should say,
He'd no chance
Wid you.
So away
Into France
He flew.”
But Roseen, yourself start a tune—
86
How a bird
That sings by the light of the moon,
Away over the ocean,
Once took up a notion,
The vain little elf, that he'd fly
To Ireland itself on the sly,
And prove all the songs of our sky
Wid the tone
Of his own,
Could never at all at all vie—
And he thought himself surely the best,
And 'twas true for him p'r'aps of the rest;
But we've all understood
Meetin' you in the wood,
As you warbled ‘The Land of the West.’
He should say,
He'd no chance
Wid you.
So away
87
He flew.”
“Behave, Shiel,
Yerra, don't you feel
How your blarneyin' talk is delayin' my reel;
If you won't sing a song,
As I'm spinnin' along,
Be off—for you're idlin' myself and the wheel.”
Yerra, don't you feel
How your blarneyin' talk is delayin' my reel;
If you won't sing a song,
As I'm spinnin' along,
Be off—for you're idlin' myself and the wheel.”
“Is it so?
O! Vo!
If off I should go
Widout that I make you the music, machree—
Down here,
My dear,
From this seat
At your feet,
I'll up wid the song that's the dearest to me.”
O! Vo!
If off I should go
Widout that I make you the music, machree—
Down here,
My dear,
From this seat
At your feet,
I'll up wid the song that's the dearest to me.”
88
SONG.
Show me a sight,
Bates for delight
An ould Irish wheel wid a young Irish girl at it.
O! No!
Nothin' you'll show,
Aquals her sittin' and takin' a twirl at it.
Bates for delight
An ould Irish wheel wid a young Irish girl at it.
O! No!
Nothin' you'll show,
Aquals her sittin' and takin' a twirl at it.
Look at her there,
Night in her hair—
The blue ray of day from her eye laughin' out on us!
Faix, an' a foot,
Perfect of cut,
Peepin' to put an end to all doubt in us
Night in her hair—
The blue ray of day from her eye laughin' out on us!
Faix, an' a foot,
Perfect of cut,
Peepin' to put an end to all doubt in us
That there's a sight,
Bates for delight
An ould Irish wheel wid a young Irish girl at it.
O! No!
Nothin' you'll show,
Aquals her sittin' an' takin' a twirl at it.
Bates for delight
An ould Irish wheel wid a young Irish girl at it.
89
Nothin' you'll show,
Aquals her sittin' an' takin' a twirl at it.
See! the lamb's wool
Turns coarse an' dull
By them soft, beautiful, weeshy, white hands of her.
Down goes her heel,
Roun' runs the wheel,
Purrin' wid pleasure to take the commands of her.
Turns coarse an' dull
By them soft, beautiful, weeshy, white hands of her.
Down goes her heel,
Roun' runs the wheel,
Purrin' wid pleasure to take the commands of her.
Then show me a sight,
Bates for delight
An ould Irish wheel wid a young Irish girl at it.
O! No!
Nothin' you'll show,
Aquals her sittin' an' takin' a twirl at it.
Bates for delight
An ould Irish wheel wid a young Irish girl at it.
O! No!
Nothin' you'll show,
Aquals her sittin' an' takin' a twirl at it.
Talk of Three Fates,
Seated on seats,
Spinnin' and shearin' away till they've done for me.
You may want three
For your massacree,
But one fate for me, boys, and only the one for me.
Seated on seats,
90
You may want three
For your massacree,
But one fate for me, boys, and only the one for me.
And
Isn't that fate,
Pictured complate,
An ould Irish wheel wid a young Irish girl at it?
O! No!
Nothin' you'll show,
Aquals her sittin' an' takin' a twirl at it.
Isn't that fate,
Pictured complate,
An ould Irish wheel wid a young Irish girl at it?
O! No!
Nothin' you'll show,
Aquals her sittin' an' takin' a twirl at it.
| Songs of Killarney | |