#02077
St Patrick's Day (MacEdward Leach)
See also: Patrick's Day (MacEdward Leach)

Now, come all of ye true sons of Erin,
Come listen a while unto me;
You'll find I'm a poor worn out creature,
Condoling here under a tree.

While the heart from my bosom was torn,
The truth unto ye I'll declare:
Young James was the flower of this island,
And he's left me in grief and despair.

Now when first I beheld that young hero,
The hills and the valleys were green;
And the leaves they were all in full blossom,
Most beautiful there to be seen.

As she sat in her lone shady bower,
Those charming sweet notes she did play;
And the blackbird and thrush joined in chorus,
With her on St Patrick's Day.

Now my friends and my parents consulted,
And they found I was so well inclined;
False stories they told to my true love,
To banish me out of his mind.

But all that they said was a folly,
Every morning and evening I'll pray;
I'm in hopes for to meet him with pleasure,
Once more on St Patrick's Day.

Now, young James is the flower of this island,
The same I will never deny;
And the beautiful words that he told me,
I'll never forget till I'll die.

But now he is crossing the ocean,
Every morning and evening I'll pray;
In hopes that I'll meet him with pleasure,
Once more on St Patrick's Day.

####.... Author unknown ....####

Collected in 1951 from Cyril O'Brien [ca.1902-?] of Trepassey, NL, and published in MacEdward Leach And The Songs Of Atlantic Canada © 2004 Memorial University of Newfoundland Folklore and Language Archive (MUNFLA).

A variant was collected in 1950 from William (Will) O'Brien [1874-1956] of Cape Broyle, NL, and published as Patrick's Day in MacEdward Leach And The Songs Of Atlantic Canada © 2004 Memorial University of Newfoundland Folklore and Language Archive (MUNFLA).


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