The night was dark and the hour late, Cold blew the winter air, And as
four farmers homeward walked Down through Lifford Fair, They thought they heard a cry, Both sad and sharp it struck
their ear, Although the winds blew high.
They climbed the wall and searched the tombs That thickly filled the
ground, And, spreading on a new-made grave, A sorrowful youth they found: His wild moans filled the chilly air, For
he looked pale and wild, His loud cries would have pierced your heart, For he wept like a child.
They roused
him from the cold wet earth, Inviting him away, He says, Move me not from this sad spot, For here I mean to stay; This
is my true-love's grassy bed, And here all night I'll lie, All by the side of my long-lost bride, I will remain and
die.
In early life we were both joined In love both fond and true, There's not a care but touched my heart But
touched my Fanny's too; The times were bad and I was poor, It was then I went away, To make a fortune in strange
lands, I crossed the roaring sea.
Scarce before I went away, In wedlock's bands we joined, It was then I left
my tender bride, So lonely, young and fond; For three long years I stayed away And I won my fortune in strange lands, I
crossed the roaring sea.
But oh, alas, begins my grief, My woe it then begun, When I came home they had her wed Unto
another one, And with false letters they imposed All in her heartless ear, And told her I had died abroad All
in a second year.
It being on a summer evening, Calm and fragrant was the air She sat before her father's door And
never looked more fair; I stood before her suddenly And when I caught her eye, She clasped her hands before her face And
gave a piercing cry.
The sudden shock had reached her heart; The story soon was told: When I came home her father
gave His hands to ancient gold, But all the gold that e'er was shown Did fail to ease her mind, And like a tender
flower crushed, Away she drooped and pined.
Mark what followed after this-- I need not stop to tell-- In that
day month, sure I could hear The tolling funeral bell. Now I have done all with this earth, And it has done with
me: My love lies dead in her cold clay bed Beneath yon willow tree.
They stopped, but neither force nor word Could
raise him from the ground, All night he lay on the cold clay, And the next day was found, And when they touched him
he was dead And where he lay he died; They dug his grave and, side by side, They laid him with his bride.
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