The dames of France are fond and free,
And Flemish lips are willing;
And soft the maids of Italy,
And Spanish eyes are thrilling;
Still, though I bask beneath their smile,
Their charms fail to bind me.
And my heart goes back to Erin's Isle,
To the girl I left behind me.
For she's as fair as Shannon's side,
And purer than its water,
But she refused to be my bride
Though many years I sought her.
Yet, since to France I sailed away,
Her letters oft remind me,
That I promised never to gainsay
The girl I left behind me.
She says: "My own dear love come home,
My friends are rich and many;
Or else, abroad with you I'll roam,
A soldier stout as any;
If you'll not come, nor let me go,
I'll think you have resigned me.
"My heart nigh broke when I answered "No,
"To the girl I left behind me.
An Unknown Irishmen (like most of em')
Some of us were raised to believe that this day was the real ground hogs day...(that being because when the late night Irishmen stumbles and lay unnoticed until the next day, the only question is whether he has frozen to death. If not, the spring drinkin' season has arrived).....
