 | Songs and ballads by Samuel Lover |  |
KITTY CREAGH.
“Oh! tell me now where you are going
Sweet Kitty Creagh?”
“To the glen where the hazels are growing,
I'm taking my way.”
“The nuts are not ripe yet, sweet Kitty,
As yet we're but making the hay:
An autumn excuse
Is in summer no use
Sweet Kitty Creagh.”
Sweet Kitty Creagh?”
“To the glen where the hazels are growing,
I'm taking my way.”
“The nuts are not ripe yet, sweet Kitty,
As yet we're but making the hay:
An autumn excuse
Is in summer no use
Sweet Kitty Creagh.”
“What is it to you where I'm going—
Misther Maguire?
The twigs in the hazel glen growing
Make a good fire.”
“The turf in the bog's nearer, Kitty,
And fitter for firing they say;
Don't think me a goose,
Faith I twig your excuse,
Sly Kitty Creagh.
Misther Maguire?
The twigs in the hazel glen growing
Make a good fire.”
“The turf in the bog's nearer, Kitty,
And fitter for firing they say;
Don't think me a goose,
Faith I twig your excuse,
Sly Kitty Creagh.
70
“We're saving our turf for the winther,
Misther Maguire;
And your gibes and your jokes shall not hindher
What I require.”
“Ah, I know why you're going there, Kitty,
Not fire, but a flame you should say
You seek in the shade
Of the hazel wood glade—
Sly Kitty Creagh!”
Misther Maguire;
And your gibes and your jokes shall not hindher
What I require.”
“Ah, I know why you're going there, Kitty,
Not fire, but a flame you should say
You seek in the shade
Of the hazel wood glade—
Sly Kitty Creagh!”
“There's a stream through that hazel wood flowing,
Sweet Kitty Creagh;
Where I see, with his fishing rod going,
Phelim O'Shea;
'Tis not for the nuts you are seeking,
Nor gathering of fuel in May,
And 'tis not catching throut
That young Phelim's about—
Sweet Kitty Creagh!”
Sweet Kitty Creagh;
Where I see, with his fishing rod going,
Phelim O'Shea;
'Tis not for the nuts you are seeking,
Nor gathering of fuel in May,
And 'tis not catching throut
That young Phelim's about—
Sweet Kitty Creagh!”
| Songs and ballads by Samuel Lover | |