Ye gods assist my poor weary notion, Ye inspired muses lend me your hand To help my endeavours both night and morning, To sing the praises of that lovely land. Well-situated in the north of old Ireland, All in the county of sweet Tyrone, Allong the banks of sweet Lough Neagh Is the ancient fabric called Old Arboe
Oh stand awhile for to view that arbour Where purling streams rush to and fro, With fishes sporting both night and morning Yield up their bounty to sweet Lough Neagh. No serpents lurk in its hallowed waters, No odours poison infest their breeze, Where peace and plenty for sons and daughters Abound around you, my sweet Lough Neagh.
I have travelled France and I've travelled Flanders, Aye, and all the countries beyond the Rhine. But with all my ranging and serenading Arboe, your equal I ne'er could find. My course I have taken to the Indian Ocean, To the shores of Caanan, aye, and Galilee. But in all my raking and undertaking Arboe, your equal I ne'er could find..Teksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
