|
There is a pretty spot in Ireland,
I always claim for my land,
Where the fairies and the blarney,
Will never ever die,
It’s the land of the shillelagh,
My heart goes back there daily,
To the girl I left behind me,
When we kissed and said good-bye.
Where the dear old Shannon’s flowing,
Where the three-leaved shamrock grows,
Where my heart is I am going,
To my little Irish Rose,
And the moment that I meet her,
With a hug and kiss I’ll greet her,
For there’s not a colleen sweeter,
Where the River Shannon flows.
There’s a letter I’ll be mailing,
For soon I will be sailing,
And I’ll bless the ship that takes me,
To my dear old Erin’s shore,
There I’ll settle down for ever,
I’ll leave the old sod never,
And I’ll whisper to my sweet heart,
‘Come and take my name asthore.’
|