Moorlough Mary

Source: Where Songs Do Thunder by Paddy Tunney

Location: New Edition, page 57 / 58

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The very first time I saw my Moorlough Mary

’Twas in the market of sweet Strabane.

Her killing glances were so engaging,

The hearts of young men she did trepan.

Her smiling glances bereft my senses

Of peace or comfort either night or day

And in silent slumber I start and murmur

Oh! Moorlough Mary, won’t you come away?

Were I a man of great education,

Or Erin’s Isle at my own command,

I would lay my head on your snowy bosom,

In wedlock bands, love, we’d join our hands.

I would entertain you both night and morning,

With robes I’d deck you both night and day;

And with kisses sweet, love, I would embrace you

Oh! Moorlough Mary, won’t you come away?

If you had seen her on a summer’s morning

When Flora’s fragrance bedecked the lawn.

Her neat deportment and manner courteous

Far, far surpassing the lamb and fawn.

On this I ponder where’er I wander,

And thus grew fonder, sweet maid, of thee,

With your matchless charm beyond comparin’,

Oh! Moorlough Mary, won’t you come away?

On Moorlough’s banks now no more I’ll wander

Where heifers graze on yon pleasant soil,

Where lambkins sporting, fair maids resorting,

The timorous hare and blue heather bell.
I would press my cheese while my wools a’teasing

My ewes I’d milk by the break of day,

While the whirring moorcock and lark allures me,

Oh! Moorlough Mary, won’t you come away?

Now I’ll go down to my situation,

My recreation is all in vain,

On the River Mourne where the salmon’s sporting

The rocks re-echoing my plaintive strain.

Where the thrush and blackbird do join harmonious,

Their notes melodious on the river brae

And the little songbirds do join in chorus,

Oh! Moorlough Mary, won’t you come away?

So, farewell my charming young Mary,

Ten thousands times I bid thee adieu.

While life remains in this glowing bosom

I’ll never cease, love, to think on you.

Now I’ll away to some lonely valley,

With tears bewailing both night and day.

In some silent arbour where none can hear me,

Since Moorlough Mary you won’t come away.

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