- by William Percy French 24Long, long ago in the woods of Gortnamona,
I thought the birds were singing in the blackthorn tree;
But oh, it was my heart that was ringing, ringing, ringing,
With the joy that you were bringing, oh my love, to me
Long, long ago in the woods of Gortnamona,
I thought the wind was sighing round the blackthorn tree;
But oh, it was the banshee that was crying, crying, crying,
And I knew my love was dying far across the sea.
Now if you go through the woods of Gortnamona,
You hear the raindrops creeping through the blackthorn tree;
But oh, it is the tears I am weeping, weeping, weeping,
For the loved one that is sleeping far away from me.
To the West
- by William Percy French 23The Midland Great Western is doing its best,
And the circular ticket is safe in my vest;
But I know that my holiday never begins
Till I'm in Connemara among the Twelve Pins.
The Bank has no fortune of mine to invest
But there's money enough for the ones I love best;
All the gold that I want I shall find on the whins
When I'm in Connemara among the Twelve Pins.
Down by the Lough I shall wander once more'
Where the wavelets lap lap round the stones on the shore:
And the mountainy goats will be wagging their chins
As they pull at the bracken among the Twelve Pins.
And its welcome I'll be, for no longer I'll meet
The hard pallid faces I find in the street;
The girl with blue eyes, and the boy with brown shins,
Will stand for their pictures among the twelve Pins.
Tonight, when all London's with gaslight agleam,
And the Carlton is filled with society's cream',
I'll be 'takin' me tay' down at ould Johnny Flynn's
Safe and away in the heart o' the Pins.
Poems by William Percy French, William Percy French's poems collection. William Percy French is a classical and famous poet (1854 - 1920 / Elphin / Ireland). Share all poems of William Percy French.
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