Mary O'Connor

And sure I was told for to come to your honor To see would you write a few lines to me Pat? For he's gone for a soldier, is Mr. O'Conner, With a stripe on his arm and a band in his hat. And what'll I tell him? Sure it must be easy For the likes of yourself who can speak with a pen. Well, tell him I'm well and avourneen me Daisy The baby, your honor, is better again. When he went to the war, so sick was me darlin' She never lit up her blue eyes to his face. And when I'd be cryin', he'd look at me wild-like And ask would I ask for my country's disgrace. So he left me in danger, and me sorely grievin' And followed the green flag with an Irishman's joy. And it's often I dream of the big guns a-beating And a bullet gone straight through the heart of me boy. And sure I was told for to come to your honor To see would you write a few lines to me Pat? For he's gone for a soldier, is Mr. O'Conner, With a stripe on his arm and a band in his hat. And what'll I tell him? Sure it must be easy For the likes of yourself who can speak with a pen. Well tell him I'm well and avourneen me Daisy The baby, your honor, is better again. Go tell him to send us a few cents and dollars For the rent and the doctor's bill due in a week. But sure, there's a teardrop in your eyelids, your honor. In faith, I'd no right with such freedom to speak. Now I'm over such triflin'; I'll give no more trouble. I'll find someone willin'... oh what can it be? What's that in the paper you're foldin' up double? Your honor, don't hide it but read it to me. Dead Patrick O'Connor? Oh, God, it's some other! Shot dead sure a week, it has scarcely gone by! And the kiss on the cheek of the sorrowing mother It hasn't had time yet, your honor, to dry! Shot dead in the battle! Oh, God! am I crazy? Sure it's breakin' my heart that you're telling me so. And what in the world will become of my Daisy? And what can I do now, oh where can I go? And sure I was told for to come to your honor To see would you write a few lines to me Pat? For he's gone for a soldier, is Mr. O'Connor, With a stripe on his arm and a band in his hat. And what'll I tell him? Sure it must be easy For the likes of yourself who can speak with a pen. Well, tell him I'm well and avourneen me Daisy The baby, your honor, is better again. This room is so dark; I'm not seeing your honor. I think I'll go home and sob hard and cry. Then uprose from the table young Mary O'Connor, But never a teardrop swelled up in her eye.