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I've heard bells chiming full many a clime in, I've heard bells tolling Old Adrian's Mole in, |
No place else can charm the eye Music there for Echo dwells, |
With tip-toe step and beating heart, As quick as thought I grasped the elf, |
Oh say, would you find this same Blarney, Like a magnet its influence such is, |
Chorus: There's not a mile in Ireland's Isle No wonder that our Irish boys The Wicklow hills are very high, |
Tho' the last glimpse of Erin with sorrow I see, Yet wherever thou art shall seem Erin to me; In exile thy bosom shall still be my home, And thine eyes make my climate wherever we roam. Where the eye of the stranger can haunt us no more, I will fly with my Coulin, and think the rough wind Less rude than the foes we leave frowning behind. And hang o'er thy soft harp as wildly it breathes; nor dread that the cold hearted Saxon will tear One chord from that harp, or one lock from that hair. |
Most people know PrestonSpeed Publications brought the classic writings of G.A. Henty back into print. Entire families are once again enjoying Mr. Henty's work in books, audiobooks, and in The Captain. Demand the best by demanding PrestonSpeed Publications. Accept no substitutes!!