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 | A thousand more verses |  |
And I said through my tears, “Say, dear boy, does it be
That ye'd like to sind words to your folks o'er the sea?”
And he whispered “Tell Mother, my ould mother dear,
That I'd hoped to come homeward an' see her this year,
And to play her the tune that she danced o'er and o'er,
When a light-hearted maiden—swate Rory O'More.
Faix the fiddle along I was goin' to bring,
And wid Rory surprise her, the very first thing.
So I worked till I calloused my fingers and thumb,
But however I coaxed it, the tune would not come;
And it never will be my good fortune, I fear,
To be playin' that tune for my mother to hear.”
That ye'd like to sind words to your folks o'er the sea?”
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That I'd hoped to come homeward an' see her this year,
And to play her the tune that she danced o'er and o'er,
When a light-hearted maiden—swate Rory O'More.
Faix the fiddle along I was goin' to bring,
And wid Rory surprise her, the very first thing.
So I worked till I calloused my fingers and thumb,
But however I coaxed it, the tune would not come;
And it never will be my good fortune, I fear,
To be playin' that tune for my mother to hear.”
| A thousand more verses | |