Then
happily we’ll live, my love, within our own demesne
My
father’s lands are all my own
He’ll
welcome thee with joy
My mother
will caress thee, love
For
bringing back her boy.
We’ll
climb the lonely mountain top
And pluck
the heather bloom
The
mountain maids will bring thee home
And show
thee wheel and loom:
I’ll bring
thee to the highest point
When days
are long and fine
And far as
eye, twixt earth and sky
Can see,
will all be thine.
You’ll see
our dark proud heather hen
Our
partridge on the wing
The timid
hare before thee skip
You’ll
hear our skylark sing:
I’ll bring
thee round the waterfalls
I’ll boat
thee round the shore
And tell
thee tales of Irish Kings
And make
thee love Glenmore.’
Continued.......