�� - �� ! -- Gobshite at MacRua's Bog

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Subject: �� - �� !

Author:
McGregor

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Date Posted: Sun, Feb 02 2003, 20:29:20

� �� ?
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

The gown she wore was bathed with gore all by a ruffian band
Her lips so sweet that monarchs kissed are now grown pale and wan
The tears of grief fell from her eyes, each tear as large as hail
None could express the deep distress of my poor old Granuaile.

Six hundred years the briny tears have flowed down from my eyes
I curse the day that Henry made of me proud Albion's prize
From that day down with chains I'm bound, no wonder I look pale
The blood they've drained from every vein of poor old Granuaile.
Irish Folk Ballad

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Replies:

Subject	Author	Date
Re: �� - �� !	McGregor	Mon, Feb 03 2003, 18:59:11
Re: �� - �� ! -- MacRua, Mon, Feb 03 2003, 23:22:29