OOPS 08 Lament of the Irish Immigrant 
                          Traditional Ascribed to Lady Dufferin

I'm sitting on a stile, Mary
Where we once sat side by side,
On a bright May morning, long ago
When first you were my bride;
The corn was springing, fresh and green
And the larks sang loud and high,
And the red was on your lips, Mary
And the love light in your eyes.

'Tis but a step down yonder lane
The village church stands near,
The place where we were wed, Mary
I can see the spire from here,
But the graveyard lies between, Mary
And my step might break your rest,
Where I laid you, darling, down to sleep
With a baby on your breast.

I'm very lonely now, Mary
For the poor make no new friends,
But oh, they loved the better still
The few, our father sends,
For you were all I had, Mary
My blessing, and my pride;
And I've nothing left to care for now
Since my poor Mary died.

Yours was the good brave heart, Mary
That still kept hoping on,
When the trust in God had left my soul
And my arm's young strength had gone,
There was comfort, ever, on your lip
And a kind look on your brow;
And I thank you Mary for the same
Though you cannot hear me now.

I'm bidding you a long farewell
My Mary, kind and true;
But I'll not forget you, darling
In the land I'm going to,
They say there's bread and work for all
And the sun shines always there,
But I'll not forget old Ireland
Were it fifty times as fair.

And often in those grand old woods
I'll sit and shut my eyes,
And my heart will wander back again
To the place where Mary lies;
And I'll think I see that little stile
Where we sat side by side,
In the springing corn and the bright May morn
When first you were my bride.

And the springing corn and the bright May morn
When first you were my bride.