 | Songs and ballads by Samuel Lover |  |
THE SENTINEL OF THE ALMA.
Oh! Katty agra, are you sleepin'?
Faith it's myself that's that same.
For, on sentry, the guard I am keepin',
And if I should doze who's to blame?
For I'm tired all day with fightin'
On Alma's proud heights gra-ma-chree,
And some Roosians, at this present writin',
Are sleepin' far sounder than me.
For I killed them my jewel—
And sure 'twould be cruel,
Only they did intend to kill me.
Faith it's myself that's that same.
For, on sentry, the guard I am keepin',
And if I should doze who's to blame?
For I'm tired all day with fightin'
On Alma's proud heights gra-ma-chree,
And some Roosians, at this present writin',
Are sleepin' far sounder than me.
For I killed them my jewel—
And sure 'twould be cruel,
Only they did intend to kill me.
Katty, before you are waking,
I wish you could see in a dhrame
The beautiful care I was taking
Of one, Katty Nowlan by name;
Your picture so nate in the locket,
Which I wear next my heart night and day,
I put in my hindmost coat pocket,
For fear you'd be kilt in the fray—
For sure 'twould be cruel
To kill you, my jewel,
And you, all the time, far away.
I wish you could see in a dhrame
The beautiful care I was taking
Of one, Katty Nowlan by name;
155
Which I wear next my heart night and day,
I put in my hindmost coat pocket,
For fear you'd be kilt in the fray—
For sure 'twould be cruel
To kill you, my jewel,
And you, all the time, far away.
The thieves were so greedy for slaughter
They marked ev'ry yard of the glen,
And cut down the trees by the water,
For fear they should shelter our men.
But when, up that hill boldly dashing,
We charg'd with victorious halloo,
From our fire and our steel, brightly flashing,
The vagabones cut their sticks too;
For we hunted the bear
From his high mountain lair,
With victory's glorious halloo!
They marked ev'ry yard of the glen,
And cut down the trees by the water,
For fear they should shelter our men.
But when, up that hill boldly dashing,
We charg'd with victorious halloo,
From our fire and our steel, brightly flashing,
The vagabones cut their sticks too;
For we hunted the bear
From his high mountain lair,
With victory's glorious halloo!
| Songs and ballads by Samuel Lover | |