JOHN TODHUNTER

Maureen

YOU plant the pain in my heart with your wistful eyes,

Girl of my choice, Maureen !

Will you drive me mad for the kisses your shy, sweet mouth denies,

Maureen ?

Like a walking ghost I am, and no words to woo, White rose of the West, Maureen :

For it's pale you are, and the fear that's on you is over me too,

Maureen !

Sure it 's one complaint that 's on us, asthore, this day,

Bride of my dreams, Maureen :

The smart of the bee that stung us his honey must cure, they say,

Maureen !

I'll coax the light to your eyes, and the rose to your face, Mavourneen, my own Maureen !

When I feel the warmth of your breast, and your nest is my arm's embrace, Maureen !

O where was the King o' the World that day only me ?

My one true love, Maureen !

And you the Queen with me there, and your throne in my heart, machree,

Maureen !

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