JAMES CLARENCE MANGAN

At home, in your emerald bowers,

From morning's dawn till e'en, You'll pray for me, my flower of flowers,

My Dark Rosaleen !

My fond Rosaleen !

You'll think of me through daylight hours, My virgin flower, my flower of flowers,

My Dark Rosaleen !

I could scale the blue air,

I could plough the high hills, O, I could kneel all night in prayer,

To heal your many ills ! And one beamy smile from you

Would float like light between My toils and me, my own, my true,

My Dark Rosaleen !

My fond Rosaleen ! Would give me life and soul anew, A second life, a soul anew,

My Dark Rosaleen !

O, the Erne shall run red,

With redundance of blood, The earth shall rock beneath our tread,

And flames wrap hill and wood, And gun-peal and slogan-cry

Wake many a glen serene, Ere you shall fade, ere you shall die,

My Dark Rosaleen !

My own Rosaleen !

The Judgement Hour must first be nigh, Ere you can fade, ere you can die,

My Dark Rosaleen !

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