MONA.
Words |
Music.
|
Fred. E Weatherly. |
Stephen Adams.
|
O swift goes my boat like a bird an the billow,
The boat of my heart-my trim Ben-my-Chree;
But swifter than bird leaps my love from her pillow,
The girl of my heart, who is waiting for me;
And down drops the anchor, the brown sails are falling,
And out on the shingle we leap in our glee:
But for all the bright eyes and the laughter and calling,
The girl of my heart is all that I see.
Mona, my own love; Mona, my true love,
Art thou not mine thro' the long years to be?
By the bright stars above thee, I love thee, I love thee,
Live for thee, die for thee, only for thee-
Oh, Mona, Mona, my own love,
Art thou not mine thro' the long years to be?
Farewell ! all is over, the bitter tears falling
My life is a wreck on a dark winter sea;
The innocent days are all gone past recalling,
There yawns a dark gulf 'twixt my darling and me;
I pass to my exile, alone, unbefriended,
The summer days mock me with gladness and mirth;
For only with death will that exile be ended,
Thou'rt lost to me, darling, for ever on earth.
Mona, my own love; Mona, my lost love,
Pray for me, pray, thro' the long years to be
And the angels above thee, who pity and love thee,
Will plead for me also, and bring me to thee
Oh, Mona, Mona, my lost love,
Pray for me, pray, thro' the long years to be.
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