Norah M'Shane

I'VE left Ballymornach a long way behind me,
To better my fortune I've cross'd the big sea,
But I'm sadly alone, not a creature to mind me,
And, faith! I'm as wretched as wretched can be.
I think of the buttermilk, fresh as a daisy,
The beautiful hills, the emerald plain ;
And, oh ! don't I oftentimes think myself crazy
About that young black-eyed rogue, Norah M'Shane.

I sigh for the turf-pile, so cheerfully burning,
When barefoot I trudged it, from toiling afar ;
When I toss'd in the light the thirteen I'd been earning
And whistled the anthem of " Erin-go-bragh ! "
In truth, I believe, I am half broken-hearted ;
To my country and love I must get back again ;
For I've never been happy at all since I parted
From sweet Ballymornach and Norah M'Shane.

Oh ! there's something so dear in the cot I was born in,
Though the walls are but mud, and the roof is but thatch ;
How familiar the grunt of the pigs in the morning,
What music in lifting the rusty old latch !
'Tis true I'd no money, but then I'd no sorrow,
My pockets were light, but my heart had no pain ;
And if I but live till the sun shines to-morrow,
I'll be off to old Ireland and Norah M'Shane.