The harvest is o'er, and the lads are so funny,|
Their hearts lin'd with love, and their pockets with money;
From morning to night 'tis, My jewel, my honey,
Och, go to the North with me, Molly, my dear!
2. Young Dermot holds on with his sweet botheration,
3. The sun courts thy smiles as he sinks in the ocean,
4. Though Thady can match all the lads with his blarney,
| Song Index | Home Page |