A Legend of FraynePrelude
Song - Air "The Irishman"Fresh emerald rolled Sweet Mitchelstown
And there the golden day-god Spread
His glowing beams are sinking down
In glory on his ocean bed.
The milk-white lambkins frisked and played,
The ring-dove cooed and cooed again,
And Zephyrs Sighing Softly Strayed,
Along the daisy mantled plain. Where rippling winds the green-fringed brook,
And water flags grow tall and Strong.
Some wayward fate that evening took
A Gaelic maid to muse along
But angel wildering beauties mild
A rustic muse may not explain;
That eve ambrosial well beguiled
Was raptured I by Mary Jane. Her wavy hair like midnight fell
Adown her nect of ivory
And on chaste coral lips did dwell
Smiles, tokens of felicity.
(leanann ar an chéad leathanach eile)