Young squire's frolic/Gragal ma chree

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I Am a young lover that's sorely oppress’d,
Enthrall’d by a fair one and can find no rest;
Her name I’ll not mention, though wounded I be,
By Cupid’s keen arrow for Gragal ma Chree.

When first I beheld this female most fair,
My eyes were eclipsed with beauty so rare:
By her killing glances she so enchanted me,
In anguish I’ll languish for Gragal ma Chree.

Her lips are like coral, her cheeks like the rose,
Her skin is like lilies, and eyes black as sloes;
She is handsome and proper in every degree,
No female can equal sweet Gragal ma Chree.

But her cruel parents were sharp and unkind,
I durst not attempt to discover my mind;
My grief to reveal for that sweet lovely she,
And my poor heart's bleeding for Gragal ma Chree.

0 had I possession of Newington store.
With Breakaduff's treasure, was it ten times more.
And wealth of great Demure, I‘d part with it most free,
Disdaining all riches for Gragal ma Chree.

I propos'd to tell that sweet innocent dove,
All by a fond letter that she was my love,
Expecting that evening with pleasure to see,
Some fine talk, of love from sweet Gragal my Chree.

But the cruel villain which did entrust,
Of all men breathing, I’m sure he is the worst;
For he prov’d a deceiver, and traitor to me,
He never gave the letter to Gragal ma Chree.

Straightway to her father he went out of hand,
And gave him my letter as I understand;
When the old man did read it, he swore bitterly,
He would alter the case with sweet Gregal ma Chree.

He said to his daughter with a frightful disdain,
Here is a love letter from your darling swain;
So never deny it, it is plain you may see,
He titles you here his sweet Gragal ma Chree.

His lovely sweet daughter she fell on her knees,
Saying, Honoured Father, pray do as you please;
For if by wild horses I tortured should be,
I ne’er will deny I’m his Gragal ma Chree.

A horse was made ready without more delay,
To same foreign country she was sent away;
Though I have been searching this whole country,
I never could hear of sweet Gragal ma Chree.

Now I will travel fair Ireland all round,
In hopes that in some part my love may be found;
And if I don’t find her I’ll mourn constantly,
And my last dying words will be Gragal ma Chree.

This work was published before January 1, 1925, and is in the public domain worldwide because the author died at least 100 years ago.