Page:Hark away.pdf/3



Oh! the boys of Kilkenny are brave roaring blades,

And if ever they meet with the nice little maids

They’ll kiss them and coax them, and spend their money free.

And of all towns in Ireland Kilkenny for me.

Fal de ral, &c.

In the town of Kilkenny there runs a clear stream;

In the town of Kilkenny there lives a pretty dame,

Her lips are like roses, and her mouth much the same,

Like a dish of fresh strawberries smother’d in cream.

Fal de ral, &c.

Her eyes are as black as Kilkenny’s large coal.

Which through my poor bosom have burnt a big hole;

Her mind, like its river, is mild, clear, and pure,

But her heart is more hard than its marble I’m sure.

Fal de ral, &c.