A History of Ireland in Song |
Mellow the moon-light to shine is beginning, Close by the window young Eileen is spinning, Bent o'er the fire her blind grand-mother sitting, Is crooning and moaning and drowsily knitting.
Merrily cheerily noiselessly whirring Spins the wheel spins the wheel while the foot's stirring, Spritely and lightly and merrily ringing Trills the sweet voice of the young maiden singing.
Eileen, a chara, I hear someone tapping 'This the ivy dear mother against the glass flapping Eily, I surely hear somebody sighing 'Tis the sound mother dear of the autumn winds dying.
What's the noise that I hear at the window I wonder? 'Tis the little birds chirping, the holly-bush under. What makes you be shoving and moving your stool on? And singing all wrong the old song of "The Coolin"?
There's a form at the casement, the form of her true love, And he whispers with face bent, I'm waiting for your, love. Get up on the stool, through the lattice step lightly And we'll rove in the grove while the moon's shining brightly.
The maid shakes her head, on her lips lays her fingers, Steps up from the stool, longs to go and yet lingers. A frightened glance turns to her drowsy grandmother, Puts one foot on the stool, spins the wheel with the other.
Lazily, easily, swings now the wheel round, Slowly and lowly is heard now the reel's sound. Noiseless and light to the lattice above her The maid steps, then leaps to the arms of her lover.
Slower, and slower and slower the wheel swings,
Lower, and lower and lower the reel rings.
E're the reel and the wheel stopped their ringing and moving
Through the grove the young lovers by moonlight are roving.
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