In a valley far away, With my _Maire bhan astór_, Short would be the summer-day, Ever loving more and more; Winter days would all grow long, With the light her heart would pour, With her kisses and her song, And her loving _mait go leór_. Fond is _Maire bhan astór_, Fair is _Maire bhan astór_, Sweet as ripple on the shore, Sings my _Maire bhan astór_. O! her sire is very proud, And her mother cold as stone; But her brother bravely vowed She should be my bride alone; For he knew I loved her well, And he knew she loved me too, So he sought their pride to quell, But 'twas all in vain to sue. True is _Maire bhan astór_, Tried is _Maire bhan astór_, Had I wings I'd never soar From my _Maire bhan astór_. There are lands where manly toil Surely reaps the crop it sows, Glorious woods and teeming soil, Where the broad Missouri flows: Through the trees the smoke shall rise, From our hearth with _mait go leór_, There shall shine the happy eyes Of my _Maire bhan astór_. Mild is _Maire bhan astór_, Mine is _Maire bhan astór_, Saints will watch about the door Of my _Maire bhan astór_. _Thomas Davis_ O! THE MARRIAGE AIR--_The Swaggering Jig_ O! the marriage, the marriage, With love and _mo bhuachaill_ for me, The ladies that ride in a carriage Might envy my marriage to me; For Eoghan is straight as a tower, And tender and loving and true, He told me more love in an hour Than the Squires of the county could do. Then, O! the marriage, etc. His hair is a shower of soft gold, His eye is as clear as the day, His conscience and vote were unsold When others were carried away; His word is as good as an oath, And freely 'twas given to me; O! sure 'twill be happy for both The day of our marriage to see. Then, O! the marriage, etc. His kinsmen are honest and kind, The neighbours think much of his skill, And Eoghan's the lad to my mind, Though he owns neither castle nor mill. But he has a tilloch of land, A horse, and a stocking of coin, A foot for a dance, and a hand In the cause of his country to join. Then, O! the marriage, etc. We meet in the market and fair-- We meet in the morning and night-- He sits on the half of my chair, And my people are wild with delight. Yet I long through the winter to skim, Though Eoghan longs more, I can see, When I will be married to him, And he will be married to me. Then, O! the marriage, the marriage, With love and _mo bhuachaill_ for me, The ladies that ride in a carriage Might envy my marriage to me.