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The Setting
I will never forget the walk to the station,
Me with your suitcase being brotherly strong.
And trying to make
light of the whole situation,
In mild conversation we moved through the throng,
And above all the roar of the
town was the blue sky,
I could here the birds singing for the joy of the day
And there was no support from the city
forthcoming,
No sympathy numbing your going away.
It's hard to say goodbye.
And there was you with your bright
eyes and best dress for travelling
And me in my work clothes, unshaven and plain,
Oh, I fully intended to put in the
half day,
But my good intentions went with you on the train.
And I never looked back as the train left the station,
Crossed over the road and walked into the park,
And there in a bar an old man was singing,
And I sat there drinking
until it got dark.
And outside the trees they grew starlings like apples,
Their hustle and chatter not dampened
by the rain.
That washed down the pavements and into the gutters,
That soaked through my clothes as I set out again,
And above me the stars were all hidden by rain clouds,
The song of the old man still locked in my brain,
And
all emigration, the curse of a nation
The setting now fitting his sad sweet refrain.
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Mary of Dungloe
1. Oh, then fare ye well, sweet Donegal, the Rosses and Gweedore.
I'm crossing the main ocean, where the foaming billows
roar,
it breaks my heart from you to part, where I spent many happy days.
Farewell to kind relations for I'm bound for
Amerikay.
2. Oh my love is tall and handsome and her age is scarce eighteen,
she far exceeds all other fair maids
when she trips o'er the green,
her lovely neck and shoulders are fairer than the snow,
till the day I die I'll ne'er
deny my Mary from Dungloe.
3. If I was at home in sweet Dungloe a letter I would write,
kind thoughts would fill
my bosom for Mary, my delight.
'Tis in her father's garden the fairest violets grow,
and 'twas there I came to court
the maid, my Mary from Dungloe
4. Ah, then Mary, you're my hearts delight, my pride and only care,
it was your cruel
father would not let me stay there.
But absence makes the heart grow fond and when I'm o'er the main,
may the Lord protect
my darling girl till I return again.
5. And I wished I was in sweet Dungloe and seated on the grass.
And by my side
a bottle of wine and on my knee a lass.
I'd call for liquor of the best and I'd pay before I go
and I'd roll my Mary
in my arms in the town of sweet Dungloe.
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