Dermot Astore.Oh! Dermot Astore, between waking and sleeping,I heard thy dear voice, and I wept to its lay;Every pulse of my heart the sweet measure was keeping,’Til Killarney’s wild echoes had borne it away.Oh, tell me, my own love, is this our last meeting?Shall we wander no more in Killarney’s green bowers,To watch the bright sun o’er the dim hills retreating,And the wild stag at rest in his bed of spring flowers?Chorus.—Oh! Dermot Astore, &c.Oh! Dermot Astore, how this fond heart would flutter,When I met thee by night in a shady boreen,And heard thine own voice in a soft whisper utterThose words of endearment, “Mavourneen Colleen.”I know we must part, but oh! say not forever,That it may be for years adds enough to my pain;But I’ll cling to the hope that, though now we must sever,In some bless’d hour I shall meet thee again.Chorus.—Oh! Dermot Astore, &c.
Oh! Dermot Astore, between waking and sleeping,I heard thy dear voice, and I wept to its lay;Every pulse of my heart the sweet measure was keeping,’Til Killarney’s wild echoes had borne it away.Oh, tell me, my own love, is this our last meeting?Shall we wander no more in Killarney’s green bowers,To watch the bright sun o’er the dim hills retreating,And the wild stag at rest in his bed of spring flowers?Chorus.—Oh! Dermot Astore, &c.Oh! Dermot Astore, how this fond heart would flutter,When I met thee by night in a shady boreen,And heard thine own voice in a soft whisper utterThose words of endearment, “Mavourneen Colleen.”I know we must part, but oh! say not forever,That it may be for years adds enough to my pain;But I’ll cling to the hope that, though now we must sever,In some bless’d hour I shall meet thee again.Chorus.—Oh! Dermot Astore, &c.
Oh! Dermot Astore, between waking and sleeping,I heard thy dear voice, and I wept to its lay;Every pulse of my heart the sweet measure was keeping,’Til Killarney’s wild echoes had borne it away.Oh, tell me, my own love, is this our last meeting?Shall we wander no more in Killarney’s green bowers,To watch the bright sun o’er the dim hills retreating,And the wild stag at rest in his bed of spring flowers?Chorus.—Oh! Dermot Astore, &c.Oh! Dermot Astore, how this fond heart would flutter,When I met thee by night in a shady boreen,And heard thine own voice in a soft whisper utterThose words of endearment, “Mavourneen Colleen.”I know we must part, but oh! say not forever,That it may be for years adds enough to my pain;But I’ll cling to the hope that, though now we must sever,In some bless’d hour I shall meet thee again.Chorus.—Oh! Dermot Astore, &c.
Oh! Dermot Astore, between waking and sleeping,I heard thy dear voice, and I wept to its lay;Every pulse of my heart the sweet measure was keeping,’Til Killarney’s wild echoes had borne it away.Oh, tell me, my own love, is this our last meeting?Shall we wander no more in Killarney’s green bowers,To watch the bright sun o’er the dim hills retreating,And the wild stag at rest in his bed of spring flowers?Chorus.—Oh! Dermot Astore, &c.
Oh! Dermot Astore, between waking and sleeping,
I heard thy dear voice, and I wept to its lay;
Every pulse of my heart the sweet measure was keeping,
’Til Killarney’s wild echoes had borne it away.
Oh, tell me, my own love, is this our last meeting?
Shall we wander no more in Killarney’s green bowers,
To watch the bright sun o’er the dim hills retreating,
And the wild stag at rest in his bed of spring flowers?
Chorus.—Oh! Dermot Astore, &c.
Oh! Dermot Astore, how this fond heart would flutter,When I met thee by night in a shady boreen,And heard thine own voice in a soft whisper utterThose words of endearment, “Mavourneen Colleen.”I know we must part, but oh! say not forever,That it may be for years adds enough to my pain;But I’ll cling to the hope that, though now we must sever,In some bless’d hour I shall meet thee again.Chorus.—Oh! Dermot Astore, &c.
Oh! Dermot Astore, how this fond heart would flutter,
When I met thee by night in a shady boreen,
And heard thine own voice in a soft whisper utter
Those words of endearment, “Mavourneen Colleen.”
I know we must part, but oh! say not forever,
That it may be for years adds enough to my pain;
But I’ll cling to the hope that, though now we must sever,
In some bless’d hour I shall meet thee again.
Chorus.—Oh! Dermot Astore, &c.