Songs of Ireland and Other Lands: Being a Collection of the Most Popular Irish, Sentimental and Comic SongsD. & J. Sadlier & Company, 1847 |
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Página 15
... Twas " Pinch " and Caoch O'Leary ! Old Caoch , but oh ! how woe - begone ! His form is bowed and bending , His fleshless hands are stiff and wan , Ay - Time is even blending The colors on his thread - bare " bag " - And " Pinch " is ...
... Twas " Pinch " and Caoch O'Leary ! Old Caoch , but oh ! how woe - begone ! His form is bowed and bending , His fleshless hands are stiff and wan , Ay - Time is even blending The colors on his thread - bare " bag " - And " Pinch " is ...
Página 19
... Twas Saint Patrick himself , sure , that set it ; And the sun of his labor with pleasure did smile , And with dew from his eye often wet it . It thrives through the bog , through the brake , through the mireland : And he called it the ...
... Twas Saint Patrick himself , sure , that set it ; And the sun of his labor with pleasure did smile , And with dew from his eye often wet it . It thrives through the bog , through the brake , through the mireland : And he called it the ...
Página 25
... Twas the lap of a west looking moun tain , Its woody slope bright with the glow , Where sang by a murmuring fountain , COLLEEN DA'S CROOTIA NA MO . Dark clouds where a gold tinge reposes But picture her brown , wavy hair , And her teeth ...
... Twas the lap of a west looking moun tain , Its woody slope bright with the glow , Where sang by a murmuring fountain , COLLEEN DA'S CROOTIA NA MO . Dark clouds where a gold tinge reposes But picture her brown , wavy hair , And her teeth ...
Página 98
... That happy day , ' twas but last May , " Tis like a dream to me , When Doinnall swore , ay , o'er and o'er , We'd part no more , oh stor machree . Soft April show'rs and bright May flow'rs Will bring the 98 THE EMERALD SONGSTER .
... That happy day , ' twas but last May , " Tis like a dream to me , When Doinnall swore , ay , o'er and o'er , We'd part no more , oh stor machree . Soft April show'rs and bright May flow'rs Will bring the 98 THE EMERALD SONGSTER .
Página 103
... twas a great crime , And murder never was riper , At the side of Glenshee , not an acre from me , There lived one Denny Byrne , a piper . Neither wedding nor wake would be worth a shake , Where Denny was not first invited , At squeezing ...
... twas a great crime , And murder never was riper , At the side of Glenshee , not an acre from me , There lived one Denny Byrne , a piper . Neither wedding nor wake would be worth a shake , Where Denny was not first invited , At squeezing ...
Conteúdo
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137 | |
144 | |
160 | |
112 | |
113 | |
120 | |
121 | |
140 | |
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166 | |
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9 | |
16 | |
19 | |
26 | |
33 | |
47 | |
54 | |
68 | |
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81 | |
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163 | |
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184 | |
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212 | |
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2 | |
15 | |
23 | |
28 | |
49 | |
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105 | |
119 | |
129 | |
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263 | |
Termos e frases comuns
Annie Lisle Ballyporeen Barney O'Hea beautiful Ben Bolt bird blarney bless blooming bonnie boys brave bride bright Charlie charming cheer Colleen Bawn colleen dhas cruthin Constantinople cottage cruthin darling dream Dublin lasses e'er Erin Erin's eyes fair farewell Fermoy flowers friends Garnavilla GEORGE LINLEY girl God save Ireland gone green happy heart Highland hills hone Isle jaunting car Johnny Sands Kate Kathleen kiss Lady land lassie live lonely love thee lover maid maiden Malone Mary Mary Astore mavourneen merry minstrel boy Molly dear morning mother mountains ne'er never night Norah o'er Old Ireland Ould poor ral lal river Lee roam round SAMUEL LOVER shamrock Shan van Vocht shining shore shuile sigh sing sleep smile song sorrow star sure sweet tears tell there's thine thou thousand a-year true Twas voice wave wear weep wild young
Passagens mais conhecidas
Página 15 - I'll forgive your Highland chief, My daughter! — Oh, my daughter!
Página 8 - Their blood has washed out their foul footsteps' pollution. No refuge could save the hireling and slave From the terror of flight, or the gloom of the grave; And the star-spangled banner in triumph doth wave O'er the land of the free and the home of the brave.
Página 9 - The spirits of your fathers Shall start from every wave — For the deck it was their field of fame, And Ocean was their grave...
Página 112 - Wha will be a traitor knave? Wha can fill a coward's grave? Wha sae base as be a slave? Let him turn and flee! Wha, for Scotland's King and Law, Freedom's sword will strongly draw, Free-man stand, or Free-man fa', Let him follow me!
Página 8 - O'er the land of the free and the home of the brave? On the shore, dimly seen through the mists of the deep, Where the foe's haughty host in dread silence reposes, What is that which the breeze, o'er the towering steep, As it fitfully blows, half conceals, half discloses?
Página 51 - He had lived for his love, for his country he died, They were all that to life had entwined him ; Nor soon shall the tears of his country be dried, Nor long will his love stay behind him.
Página 54 - By the struggling moonbeam's misty light, And the lantern dimly burning. No useless coffin enclosed his breast, Nor in sheet nor in shroud we wound him ; But he lay like a warrior taking his rest, With his martial cloak around him.
Página 160 - ... flee, But I have no refuge from famine and danger, A home and a country remain not to me. Never again, in the green sunny bowers, Where my forefathers lived, shall I spend the sweet hours, .Or cover my harp with the wild-woven flowers, And strike to the numbers of Erin go bragh...
Página 14 - The water-wraith was shrieking; And in the scowl of heaven each face Grew dark as they were speaking. But still as wilder blew the wind, And as the night grew drearer, Adown the glen rode armed men, Their trampling sounded nearer. " O haste thee, haste!" the lady cries, "Though tempests round us gather; I'll meet the raging of the skies, But not an angry father.
Página 54 - NOT a drum was heard, not a funeral note, As his corse to the ramparts we hurried ; Not a soldier discharged his farewell shot O'er the grave where our hero we buried. We buried him darkly, at dead of night, The sods with our bayonets turning, By the struggling moonbeam's misty light, And the lantern dimly burning. No useless coffin enclosed his breast...