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THE BELLE OF DERRYKEEVIN by Moses Teggart, Springfield, Mass. Sept. 11, 1898 |
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| The buttercups were sleepin' sound The ragweeds they were dozin' An' in the grazing all aroun' The daisies' eyes were closin'. The blades o' grass wi' dew were wet, The lark the sky was leavin' When walkin' out, by chance I met The belle of Derrykeevin. O, if blue eyes an' blushin' cheeks, An' sweet words sweetly spoken, An' bashful glances when she speaks, A bonnie lass betoken, - Then she who there before me stood, Wi' bosom gently heavin' Might well be in that neighbourhood - The belle of Derrykeevin. |
We listened to the tricklin' rill That through the sheugh was flowin' The star of evenin' glowin'. One slender han' when I had foun'- The fingers smooth with weavin', Then of itself my arm went roun' The belle of Derrykeevin. Her lips were like the buddin' pinks When in the dews they're sleepin' Her eyes like stars when through the chinks Of inky clouds they're peepin' No thoughts had we of rainy days, Of grumblin' or of grievin', No thought had I, but still to praise The belle of Derrykeevin. |
We wadered by the hawthorn hedge, An' down the sally loanin', And every soft kiss was a pledge That come what might - disownin' All fooly talk an blethers rife, An' foolish make-believin', I'd love an' cherish as my life The belle of Derrykeevin. An' now - however long the day, However hard my labour, I still have a kind word to say To every thrifty neighbour. An' when they bear me whistlin' sweet When light the sky is leavin' They know right well I'm goin' to meet The belle of Derrykeevin. |