’VOURNEEN, when your days were bright, Never an eye did I dare to lift to you, But now, in your fortune’s blight, False ones are flying in sunshine that knew you; But still on one welcome true rely, Tho’ the crops may fail, and the cow go dry, And your cabin be burned, and all be spent, Come, live in my heart and pay no rent; Come, come, live in my heart, Live in my heart and pay no rent; Come, come, live in my heart, Live in my heart, mavourneen! ’Vourneen, dry up those tears, The sensible people will tell you to wait, dear, But ah! in the wasting of Love’s young years, On our innocent hearts we ’re committing a chate, dear. For hearts when they ’re young should make the vow, For when they are old they don’t know how; So marry at once and you ’ll not repent, When you live in my heart and pay no rent, Come, come, live in my heart, Live in my heart and pay no rent, Come, come, live in my heart, Live in my heart, mavourneen!
Live in my Heart and Pay No Rent
More from Poet
-
Our Father Land! and wouldst thou know Why we should call it Father Land? It is that Adam here below Was made of earth by Nature’s hand; And he our father, made of earth, Hath peopled earth on every hand; And we, in memory of his birth, Do call our country Father Land. At first, in Eden’...
-
Oh, I ’m not myself at all, Molly dear, Molly dear! I ’m not myself at all. Nothing caring, nothing knowing, ’T is after you I ’m going, Faith, your shadow ’t is I ’m growing, Molly dear, Molly dear! And I ’m not myself at all. Th’ other day I went confessin’, And I asked the...
-
Widow Machree, it ’s no wonder you frown,— Och hone! Widow Machree; Faith, it ruins your looks, that same dirty black gown,— Och hone! Widow Machree; How altered your air, With that close cap you wear,— ’T is destroying your hair, That should...
-
’VOURNEEN, when your days were bright, Never an eye did I dare to lift to you, But now, in your fortune’s blight, False ones are flying in sunshine that knew you; But still on one welcome true rely, Tho’ the crops may fail, and the cow go dry, And your cabin be burned, and all be spent,...
-
“oh, ’t is time I should talk to your mother, Sweet Mary,” says I. “Oh, don’t talk to my mother,” says Mary, Beginning to cry: “For my mother says men are deceivers, And never, I know, will consent; She says girls in a hurry who marry At leisure repent.” “Then suppose...