THE WHITE BLOSSOM'S OFF THE BOG
The white blossom's off the bog, and the leaves are off the trees,
And the singing birds have scattered across the stormy seas;
And, oh! 'tis winter,
Wild, wild winter!
With the lonesome wind sighing for ever through the trees.
How green the leaves were springing! how glad the birds were singing!
When I rested in the meadow with my head on Patrick's knees;
And, oh! 'twas spring time,
Sweet, sweet spring time!
With the daisies all dancing before me in the breeze.
With the spring the fresh leaves they'll laugh upon the trees,
And the birds they'll flutter back with their songs across the seas,
But I'll never rest again with my head on Patrick's knees;
And for me 'twill be winter,
All the year winter,
With the lonesome wind sighing for ever through the trees.
