Nora MacShane
I've left Ballymornach a long way behind me
To better my fortune I've crossed the wide sea;
But I'm sadly alone, not a creature to mind me
And faith I'm as wretched as wretched can be.
I think of the buttermilk fresh as a daisy
The beautiful hills and the Emerald plain
And oh, don't I often think myself crazy
About that black-eyed rogue sweet Nora MacShane.
I sight for the turf-pile so cheerfully burning,
When barefoot I trudged it from toiling afar,
When I tossed in the light the Thirteen I'd been earning
And whistled the old tune of Erin go Breagh.
In truth I believe that I'm half broken-hearted,
To my country and love I must go back again,
For I've never been happy at all since I parted
From sweey Ballymornach and Nora MacShane.
Oh, there's something so dear in the cot I was born in
Though the walls are of mud and the roof is but thatch,
How famliar the moo of the cows in the morning,
What music in lifting the rusty old latch.
'Tis true I'd no money, but then I'd no sorrow,
My pockets were light but my heart had no pain,
And if I but live till the sun shines to-morrow
I'll be off to old Ireland and Nora MacShane.
Batk Hughes,
Seatown E. Swords.