THE LILY OF LOUGH NEAGH

by Moses Teggart, Springfield Mass. Oct. 1898

 

Do I remember Daisy Tennyson?
Well! To be sure, I do!
Her hair was black as the clouds of night,
Her eyes as heaven blue.
Her sweet face was the envy
Of all the Milltown girls,
And when she laughed - then, you could see
Her mouth was full of pearls.
A dear light-hearted Daisy
In kirtle green and gray;
The colleen they were wont to call
The Lily of Lough Neagh.

*****

Her dad in Californy
Had dug so hard for gold,
When he came home he had as much 
As Daisy's lap would hold.
Rich enough for a princess,
She might have wed an Earl, 
But Daisy loved a fish-lad,
And he adored the girl.
On Lough neagh's banks at sunset
Oft would these lovers stray -
Soft kisses were the dews that fed 
The Lily of Lough Neagh.
No useless shoes or stockings 
Would lovely Daisy wear,
Her feet were white as buttermild,
Her shapely ankles bare.
Here namesakes in the dewy grass
And on the rampers brown,
Outdone by Daisy's soft white feet,
Their rosy heads hung down.
But like herself in snowy white - 
On Daisy's weddin' day
They bloomed and blushed wherever went
The Lily of Lough Neagh.
Do I remember Daisy Tennyson?
Indeed, indeed I do!
Her hair was black as the clouds of night,
Her eyes as heaven blue.
A daughter of Hibernia,
Sweet lass! I see her still, -
No purtier colleen ever walked 
The wilds of Columbkill.
If in them parts you ever meet 
A grand old man and gray,
Just ask him if he ever knew
The Lily of Lough Neagh.

 

The Belle of Clonmakate

The Belle of Derryagh

The Belle of Derrykeevin

A Birches Boy

Bonnie Mary of Drumcree

Coney Island

Dead at The Birches

Down in Maghery

Gorse

Lillian Martin

The Turf Bummer

The Turf Cutter

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