Classic Poem

O Nora, amber-coolun,
It robs me of my rest
That my head should be forbidden
To lie upon your breast!
It robs me of my rest, Love,
And it breaks my heart and brain;
And oh! that I could bear my dear
Across the raging main!

Oh, valentine and sweetheart!
Be true to what you swore
When you promised me you'd marry me
Without a farthing's store;
Oh, we'd walk the dew together,
And light our steps should be;
And Nora, amber-coolun,
I'd kiss you daintily.

Hard by the holm
Lives this white love of mine;
Her thick hair's like amber,
Which causes me to pine.
King of the Sabbath,
Oh, grant me soon to see
My own fat cattle grazing
Around sweet Ballybwee!