| The daughter of Megan, so lovely and blooming
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| I met in Glenavon’s gay glittering hall
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| And high rose my heart, ambition assuming
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| To dance with the damsel, the bloom of the ball
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| Oh daughter of Megan, look not so alluring
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| On a youth that his hope with thy hand must resign;
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| That now the sad pang of despair is enduring
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| The spendour thou lov’st can never be mine
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| Go daughter of Megan, to castles of splendour
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| Each eye that beholds thee thy presence shall bless
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| And the delicate mind feel a passion more tender
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| On thy beauties to gaze than another’s possess
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| But daughter of Megan, tomorrow I’m going
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| On oceans to sail where the rude billows roar;
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| I feel my full heart with affliction o’erflowing
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| Perhaps I may gaze on thy beauties no more
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| Oh the daughter of Megan, so lovely and blooming
|
| I met in Glenavon’s gay glittering hall
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| And hight rose my heart, ambition assuming
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| To dance with the damsel, the bloom of the ball |