Farewell, Farewell my Rosses,
Far o'er the dark blue main,
Farewell my haunts of childhood,
Of thee I am dreaming in vain.
Well I remember the faces,
Pals of my day I knew,
The lasses I loved and courted,
Beautiful, Kindly and True.
The warblers singing sweetly
In Ballyweelan Grove,
The Lark high in the Heavens,
Sweet Springtime of love;
The Cuckoo and the Corncrake,
Morning Sunrise Charm,
The homely smile of The Rosses
Can vanish a Winter Storm.
The dim watch-tower at evening,
Grey stones turned to gold,
Where hours of Pilot watching,
Winged in tales of old;
A fire sang in the shadows,
Glow from a Hotplate red,
Sealed in the locker of memory,
For me are vanished and fled.
Happy as lovers wandering
Out on the hills of Bowmore,
Oh for My Rosses I'm sighing;
My longing is more and more.
Out where The Wild-Rose Blooming,
Scented the Summer Air,
Rocks that were grey and lonely
Echoed a love song there.
I had a golden Lily,
Fair in the Rosses she grew,
I had a love for my Lily,
Far deeper than anyone knew.
The frost of winter it came,
I waited in mortal dread,
Alas! when the storm abated
My Lily lay withered and dead.
Little white-washed cottages,
They built them in a row,
Where tide of life is ebbing,
The old day and the new,
Still lasses love and lads propose,
'Mong Hay sweet newly mown,
Flowers of life are garlanded
In nature's golden crown.
When the full Moon shining,
Shades ghostly by the shore,
A rippling Spring-Tide flowing,
I am longing more and more;
Shadows flit from Oyster Green
And Coney's Silver Strand,
A seaman sculling on the surf
Will bring his craft to land.
I am alone, Alone, Alone,
Bent, Weary, Old and Poor,
Far away from my dear home,
Ten Thousand Miles and more:
My heart yearns for My Rosses,
Of all the world it's best,
Where sleeps my golden Lily,
In her sweet eternal rest.
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