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The Moorlough shore

— Mots-clés associés :

Traditionnel - Irlande


Your hills and dales and flowery vales
That lie near the Moorlough Shore.
Your vines that blow by Borden's grove.
Will I ever see you more
Where the primrose glows
And the violet grows
Where the trout and salmon play.
With my line and hook delight I took
To spend my youthful days.

Last night I went to see my love,
And to hear what she might say.
To see if she'd take pity on me,
Lest I might go away.
She said, "I loved an Irish lad,
And he was my only joy,
And ever since I saw his face
I have loved that sailor boy."

Perhaps your sailor lad is lost
Sailing over the sea of Maine.
Or perhaps he's gone with some other one
You may never see him again.
Well if my Irish lad is lost,
He's the one I do adore,
And seven years I'll wait for him
By the banks of the Moorlough Shore

Farewell to Sinclaire's castle grand
Farewell to the foggy dew
Where the linen waves like bleaching silk
And the fallin stream runes still
Near there I spent my youthful days
But alas they are all gone
For cruelty has banished me
Far away from the Moorlough shore

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