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Lilies of the Valley.
O’er barren hills and flowery dales,
O’er seas and distant shores,
With merry songs and jocund tales,
I’ve pass’d some pleasant hours;
Tho' wand’ring thus, I ne’er could find
A girl like blythsome Sally,
Who picks, and culls, and cries aloud,
“ Sweet lilies of the valley.”
From whistling o’er the harrow’d turf,
From nestling of each tree,
I chose a soldier’s life to wed,
So social, gay, and free:
Yet tho’ the lasses love me well,
And' often try to rally,
None pleases me like her who cries,
“ Sweet lilies of the valley.”
I’m now return’d, of late discharg’d,
To see my native soil;
From fighting in my country’s cause,
To plough my country’s soil:
I care not which, with either pleas'd,
So I possess my Sally,
That little merry nymph, who cries,
Sweet lies of the valley.”
Paudien O'Rafferty.
When I was a serving my time at Drogheda, .
Minding my work, just as I ought to do,
My master’s fair daughter, Miss Biddy O’Dogherty,
Bored a hole in the heart of young Paudien O’ Rafferty.
Fol, lol, lol, &c.
Miss Bid was a nice little girl as she ought to be,
