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Emigration & farewells

Moon behind the hill!



                BEHIND THE

                HILL !

I WATCH'D last night the rising moon,
Upon a foreign strand,
The memories came like flowers in June,
Of home and father land ;
I dreamt I was a child once more,
Beside the rippling rill,
When first I saw in days of yore,
The moon behind the hill.
When first, &c.

It brought me back the visions grand,
That purpled boyhood's dreams,
Its youthful loves. its happy land,
As bright as the morning beams ;
It brought me back the spreading lea,
The steeple, and the mill,
Until my eyes could scarcely see,
The moon behind the hill.
Until my eyes, &c.

It brought me back a mother's love,
Until in accent wild,
I prayed to her, from her home above,
To guard her only child ;
It brought me one, accross the wave,
To live in memory still,
It brought me back to Mary's grave,
The moon behind the hill.
It brought me back, &c.

And there beneath the silvery sky,
I lived life o'er again,
I counted all its hopes gone bye,
I wept at all its pain ;
And when I'm gone, oh, may some tongue,
The minsterl's wish fulfiull,
And still remember him who sang,
The moon behind the hill.
And still remember, &c.

                              NO. 587.


            FAIR GIRLS






FAREWELL mother, home and friends,
We may never meet again,
Soon with strangers I shall roam,
Though the parting gives me pain;
Though I wander far away,
Lonely o'er the stormy sea,
Who will shed one gentle tear,
For this poor wandering refugee
Farewell mother, I must go,
I will ever think of thee,
Mother, I must leave thee, now
A lonely wandering refugee.
Farewell sunny English home,
Home, I always love so true,
Oft will tear drops dim mine eye,
When my memory flies to you ;
Oh, the happy scenes of home,
I never, never more may see,
I'll be wandering far away,
A lonely wandering refugee.

                The Fair Girls of Erin.

Written by JOHN SYNER,    Birmingham.

FAIR as the morn, in summer time breaking
O'er mountains, o'er valleys and dells,
But fairer, far fairer, I'm thinking,
Are Erin's bewitching fair girls.
                        Chorus :
Then a song for the girls, of our dear sister
Their beauty none can surpass,           [isle,
There is witchery in the voice, and the smile,
Of every true Irish lass.

Their eyes are the brightest, the darkest, and
Always with smiles that are sweet, [beaming
and their soft rosy lips, with kisses are teeming
And sweet music they make when they meet

I love them, I love them, the brightest, the
The wicked, the sauey the best. [fairest,
Tetruest on earth, and the rarest.
If chance put their love to the test.

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