Part 2
Long, long away, an' no matther how far, 'Tis the girls that I miss, the girls that I miss: Women are round ye wherever ye are Not worth a kiss, not worth a kiss. Over in Ireland many's the one,-- Well do I know, that has nothing to say wid them,-- Sweeter than anythin' undher the sun, Och, 'tis the Irish girls has the way wid them!
*AT SEA.*
'Tis the long blue Head o' Garron From the sea, Och, we're sailin' past the Garron On the sea. Now Glen Ariff lies behind, Where the waters fall an' wind By the willows o' Glen Ariff to the sea.
Ould Luirgedan rises green By the sea, Ay, he stands between the Glens An' the sea. Now we're past the darklin' caves, Where the breakin' summer waves Wandher in wi' their trouble from the sea.
But Cushendun lies nearer To the sea, An' _thon's_ a shore is dearer Still to me, For the land that I am leavin' Sure the heart I have is grievin', But the ship has set her sails for the sea.
Och, what's this is deeper Than the sea? An' what's this is stronger Nor the sea? When the call is "all or none," An' the answer "all for one," Then we be to sail away across the sea.
*"LOOKIN' BACK."*
Wathers o' Moyle an' the white gulls flyin', Since I was near ye what have I seen? Deep great seas, an' a sthrong wind sighin' Night an' day where the waves are green. _Struth na Moile_, the wind goes sighin' Over a waste o' wathers green.
Slemish an' Trostan, dark wi' heather, High are the Rockies, airy-blue; Sure ye have snows in the winter weather, Here they're lyin' the long year through. Snows are fair in the summer weather, Och, an' the shadows between are blue!
Lone Glen Dun an' the wild glen flowers, Little ye know if the prairie is sweet. Roses for miles, an' redder than ours Spring here undher the horses' feet, Ay, an' the black-eyed gold sunflowers, Not as the glen flowers small an' sweet.
Wathers o' Moyle, I hear ye callin' Clearer for half o' the world between, Antrim hills an' the wet rain fallin' Whiles ye are nearer than snow-tops keen: Dreams o' the night an' a night wind callin'-- What is the half o' the world between?
*THE NORTH-WEST--CANADA.*
Oh would ye hear, and would ye hear Of the windy, wide North-West? Faith! 'tis a land as green as the sea, That rolls as far and rolls as free, With drifts of flowers, so many there be, Where the cattle roam and rest.
Oh could ye see, and could ye see The great gold skies so clear, The rivers that race through the pine-shade dark, The mountainous snows that take no mark, Sun-lit and high on the Rockies stark, So far they seem as near.
Then could ye feel, and could ye feel How fresh is a Western night! When the long land-breezes rise and pass And sigh in the rustling prairie grass, When the dark-blue skies are clear as glass, And the same old stars are bright.
But could ye know, and for ever know The word of the young North-West! A word she breathes to the true and bold, A word misknown to the false and cold, A word that never was spoken or sold, But the one that knows is blest.
*BACK TO IRELAND.*
Oh tell me, will I ever win to Ireland again, _Astore!_ from the far North-West? Have we given all the rainbows, an' green woods an' rain, For the suns an' the snows o' the West? "Them that goes to Ireland must thravel night an' day, An' them that goes to Ireland must sail across the say, For the len'th of here to Ireland is half the world away-- An' you'll lave your heart behind you in the West. Set your face for Ireland, Kiss your friends in Ireland, But lave your heart behind you in the West."
On a dim an' shiny mornin' the ship she comes to land, Early, oh early in the mornin', The silver wathers o' the Foyle go slidin' to the strand, Whisperin', "Ye're welcome in the mornin'." There's darkness on the holy hills I know are close aroun', But the stars are shinin' up the sky, the stars are shinin' down, They make a golden cross above, they make a golden crown, An' meself could tell ye why,--in the mornin'. Sure an' this is Ireland, Thank God for Ireland! I'm comin' back to Ireland the mornin'.
PRINTED BY WILLIAM BLACKWOOD AND SONS.