Although now I'm far away, every night I kneel and pray
For the girl who's sleeping on the shamrock shore ;
I would give my future years just to see her through my tears,
In the little Irish valley of Glenore.
Where we wondered side by side near the Shannon's flowing tide,
Where the mocking birds their songs would cease to sing--
We would wander, Nell and I, to the little church close by,
And we'd listen as the Vesper, bell would ring.
Where the silvery Shannon flows, Where the little shamrock grows,
She is sleeping in the land we both loved best ;
And perhaps she's better there, free from sorrow, pain, and care,
As she sleeps upon dear Erin's green soft breast.
Every morn when I awake,how my heart doth sadly ache,
As I recall the vows we made in days of yore.
Where, as sweethearts, we would roam to her little' cabin home,
In the little Irish valley of Glenore.
Nellie dear, I sigh and weep, faraway from where you sleep ;
Far from where I won your heart in days of yore.
In the little sunny glade, where in childhood's days we played,
In Old Ireland, on that far-off distant shore.
Since I left the dear old home, far across the raging foam,
In many foreign climes my feet have trod ;
But no matter , where I roam, every day my heart goes home
To that little cabin built of Irish sod.
For it is my native sod, and each night I pray to God,
For to spare me till I see the dear old land,
Where united we will be, in that land that should be free,
And once more I'll take my - dear old mother's hand.
The hand that dried my tears In those bygone happy years.
In fancy her dear, face I often see,
In a voice to me so dear, once again I seem to hear,
The dear old songs my, mother sang to me.
Help will come across the foam, to our little island home,
From the Stars and Stripes across the tumbling main,
And we'll give our allied powers for the land that , should be ours
And we'll buy Killarney's Lakes back once again.
MICHAEL F. BREEN.
Forth, October 4, 1910.
Notes
From the Tasmanian Newspaper The North West Post 5 Oct 1910 p. 4.
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