THE LILY OF LOUGH NEAGH by Moses Teggart, Springfield Mass. Oct. 1898 |
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Do I remember Daisy Tennyson? ***** |
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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. |