Page:Blackbird.pdf/14

14 Yet my heart, my heart is breaking For the love of Alice Gray.

I've sunk beneath a summer's sun, And shiver'd in the blast; But now my pilgrimage is done. The weary conflict's past. When laid within my peaceful grave, May pity haply say, Oh! his heart, his heart was broken For the love of Alice Gray.

Barney Brallaghan.

'Twas on a windy night, At two o'clock in the morning, An Irish lad so tight, All wind and weather scorning At Judy Callaghan's door, Sitting on the pailings, His love tale he did pour, And this was part of his wailings:

Only say You'll have Mister Brallaghan, Don't say nay, Charming Judy Callaghan.