Slievenamon

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Alone, all alone, by the wave wash strand; all alone in a crowed hall
The hall it is gay, and the waves they are grand, buy my heart is not here at all
It flies far away, by night and by day, to the times and the joys that are gone
And I never will forget, the sweet maiden that I met, in the Valley near Slievenamon.

It was not the grace of her queenly air; Nor her cheek of the rose’s glow
Nor her soft black eyes, nor her flowing hair; Nor was it her lilly shite brow
‘Twas the soul of truth and the melting ruth; And the smile like a summer dawn
That stole my heart away on a soft summer day; In the Valley near Slievenamon.

In the festive hall, by the wavewashed shore; Oh my restless spirit cries
“My love, oh, my love, shall I ne’er see you more? And, my land, will you never uprise?”
By night, and by day, I ever, ever pray; While lonely my life flows on
To see our flag unfurled and my true-love to enfold; In the Valley near Slievenamon.

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