A Legend of Frayne Prelude 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.Cyril ReganCyril Regan