| At Orenmore in the County Galway
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| One pleasant evening in the month of May
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| I spied a damsel, she was young and handsome
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| Her beauty fairly took my breath away
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| Cho: She wore no jewels, nor costly diamonds
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| No paint or powder, no, none at all
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| But she wore a bonnet with a ribbon on it
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| And round her shoulder was a Galway Shawl
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| We kept on walking, she kept on talking
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| 'Till her father’s cottage came into view
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| Says she: 'Come in, sir, and meet my father
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| And play to please him «The Foggy Dew.»
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| She sat me down beside the fire
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| I could see her father, he was six feet tall
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| And soon her mother had the kettle singing
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| All I could think of was the Galway shawl
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| I played «The Blackbird» and «The Stack of Barley»
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| «Rodney's Glory» and «The Foggy Dew»
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| She sang each note like an Irish linnet
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| Whilst the tears stood in her eyes of blue
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| 'Twas early, early, all in the morning
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| When I hit the road for old Donegal
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| She said 'Goodby, sir,'she cried and kissed me
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| And my heart remained with that Galway shawl |