It was as fine a churchful as you ever clapt an eye on; Oh, the bells was ringin’ gaily, and the sun was shinin’ free; There was singers, there was clargy--“Bless ye both,” says Father Tryon-- They was weddin’ Mary Callaghan and me.
There was gatherin’ of women, there was hush upon the stairway, There was whisperin’ and smilin’, but it was no place for me; A little ship was comin’ into harbour through the fairway-- It belongs to Mary Callaghan and me.
Shure, the longest day has endin’, and the wildest storm has fallin’-- There’s a young gossoon in yander, and he sits upon my knee; There’s a churchful for the christenin’--do you hear the imp a-callin’? He’s the pride of Mary Callaghan and me.
He’s the man that killed Black Care, He’s the pride of all Kildare; Shure the devil takes his hat off whin he comes: ‘Tis the clargy bow before him, ‘Tis the women they adore him, And the Lord Lieutenant orders out the drums-- For his hangin’, all the drums, All the drums!
You’ll travel far and wide, dear, but you’ll come back again, You’ll come back to your father and your mother in the glen, Although we should be lyin’ ‘neath the heather grasses then-- You’ll be comin’ back, my darlin’!
You’ll see the icebergs sailin’ along the wintry foam, The white hair of the breakers, and the wild swans as they roam; But you’ll not forget the rowan beside your father’s home You’ll be comin’ back, my darlin’!
New friends will clasp your hand, dear, new faces on you smile; You’ll bide with them and love them, but you’ll long for us the while; For the word across the water, and the farewell by the stile-- For the true heart’s here, my darlin’!
You’ll hear the wild birds singin’ beneath a brighter sky, The roof-tree of your home, dear, it will be grand and high; But you’ll hunger for the hearthstone where, a child, you used to lie-- You’ll be comin’ back, my darlin’!
And when your foot is weary, and when your heart is sore, And you come back to the moor that spreads beyand your father’s door, There’ll be many an ancient comrade to greet you on the shore-- At your comin’ back, my darlin’!
Ah, the hillock cannot cover, and the grass it cannot hide The love that never changeth, whatever wind or tide; And though you’ll not be seein’, we’ll be standin’ by your side-- You’ll be comin’ back, my darlin’!