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Patrick Street - Sweet Lisbweemore lyrics
One morning in the month of June, as Sol's bright beams the air illum'ed, My cattle from the bawn I drove, and then stretched at my ease. The skylark sang melodiously a lovely lass appeared to me, Down by the turbary in sweet Lisbweemore. When I saw this maid approaching me my heart rose to a height of glee, I stood with great alacrity to accost this comely maid. She says: "Kind sir, I'm going astray; please, now, would you show me the way That leads to the weaver's house in sweet Lisbweemore?" When I beheld this charming maid, my heart began to palpitate, My eyes began to dazzle and her figure I could not state. She was loaded with some balls of thread, the same she had upon her head, Passing by the turbary in sweet Lisbweemore. "Come along, my pretty maid, don't be of me the least afraid; I'll lead you through this rugged place you never went before. Your guardian I will surely be, until that young man's face you'll see, Down by the turbary in sweet Lisbweemore. There is no other human being in showing the way can surpass me; I know it from my infancy, so come along, a stoir. Or if you will abide with me, I'll always style you 'gra mo chroi', Here by the turbary in sweet Lisbweemore." She soon replied: "Indeed, I won't; you are a scheming, naughty rogue! So please desist from flattery with a simple, honest maid. But if you're inclined to show the way, then come along, don't me delay, Down by the turbary, in sweet Lisbweemore." What she said I did excuse, her request I could not refuse, As we walked along together she this to me did say: "Where lives the man they call "D.D.?" his residence I'd like to see, Down by the turbary in sweet Lisbweemore." "The truth to you I will relate: I do not wish to see his face; The reason, too, I'll tell to you: 'tis early in the day. For if he'd see us two alone, a song for us he would compose, Down by the turbary in sweet Lisbweemore." "To do his best, what can he say --- are we not honest going the way? Besides, he has the [?tendency] never to dispraise. But if another man were in my shoes he'd spoil your thread, both warp and woof, Down by the turbary in sweet Lisbweemore." When this I said, without delay, upon my word! she ran away! In vain I tried to follow her through flat and steeplechase. No roe-buck in the park so quick could leap beyond each ceap and ditch As she did through the turbary in sweet Lisbweemore! And as she was too smart for me, though I ran with great rapidity, I was troubled with the dint of speed and topsy-turvy thrown. Ere again my foot I lay At least from the turbary in sweet Lisbweemore. |
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