Through the midlands of Ireland I journeyed by diesel And bright in the sun shone The emerald plain Though loud sang the birds On the thorn-bush and teasel They could not be heard For the sound of the train
The roll of the railway Made musing creative I thought of the colleen I soon was to see With her wiry black hair And grey eyes of the native Sweet Moira McCavendish Acushla machree
Her brother's wee cabin Stands distant from Tallow A league and a half Where the Blackwater flows And the musk and potato The mint and the mallow Do grow there in beauty Along with the rose
'Twas smoothly we raced Through the open expansion Of rush-covered levels And gate-lodge and gate And the ruined demesne And the windowless mansion Where once the oppressor Had reveled in state
At Castletown Roche As the prospect grew hillier I saw the far mountains To Moira long-known Till I came to the valley And town land familiar With the Protestant church Standing locked and alone
Oh, vein of my heart Upon Tallow Road Station No face was to greet me So freckled and white As the diesel slid out Leaving still desolation The McCavendish ass-cart Was nowhere in sight
For a league and a half To the Blackwater river I tramped with my bundle Her cabin to see And herself by the fuchsias Her young lips a-quiver Half-smiling, half-weeping A welcome to me
Och Moira McCavendish The fangs of the creeper Have struck at the thatch And thrust open the door The couch in the garden Grows ranker and deeper Than musk and potato Which bloomed there before
Flow on, you remorseless And salmon-full waters What care I for prospects So silvery fair? The heart in me's dead Like your sweetest of daughters And I would that my spirit Were lost on the air
Moira Sweet Moira Oh, Moira McCavendish Acushla machree Moira Sweet Moira Oh, Moira McCavendish Acushla machreeTeksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
