Helen Selina

I ’m sitting on the stile, Mary,
Where we sat side by side.

Lament of the Irish Emigrant.

    The corn was springing fresh and green,
  And the lark sang loud and high,
And the red was on your lip, Mary,
  And the love-light in your eye.

Lament of the Irish Emigrant.

    I’m very lonely now, Mary,
  For the poor make no new friends;
But oh they love the better still
  The few our Father sends!

Lament of the Irish Emigrant.

    I’m bidding you a long farewell,
  My Mary, kind and true,
But I’ll not forget you, darling,
  In the land I’m going to.
They say there’s bread and work for all,
  And the sun shines always there;
But I’ll not forget old Ireland,
  Were it fifty times as fair.

Lament of the Irish Emigrant.

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