by Francis Arthur Fahy (1854 - 1935)
The stile in the lane
Language: English
There's a lane down by the river, Where the cuckoos soonest call, 'Tis the loveliest place in Ireland When the evening shadows fall; But for fear of ghosts or fairies, Faith! I dare not wander through, Without someone to mind me, Oh! colleens dear, could you? There's a stile beside a meadow In the middle of the lane, Such an awkward, dear old stile it is, I try to climb in vain, Until someone helps me over To a cosy seat for two; I could linger there for ever, Oh! girls dear, couldn't you? There's a meadow deck'd with daisies, Not a step beyond the stile, Where the blithe song of the blackbird Could the heart of care beguile; But I never yet could listen, Tho' he whistled all he knew, For someone whisper'd all the time, Now, colleens dear, could you? There's a chapel clad in ivy, Oh! as sweet as you could see, And there, he says, next Sunday I must promise his to be; In the face of all the people I will find it hard to do, But I'll try my best to please him, Oh! girls dear, wouldn't you?
Authorship:
- by Francis Arthur Fahy (1854 - 1935) [author's text not yet checked against a primary source]
Musical settings (art songs, Lieder, mélodies, (etc.), choral pieces, and other vocal works set to this text), listed by composer (not necessarily exhaustive):
- by Alicia Adélaïda Needham (1863 - 1945), "The stile in the lane", published 1904 [voice and piano], from A Bunch of Shamrocks, no. 10, London: Boosey & Co. [ sung text checked 1 time]
Researcher for this page: Melanie Trumbull
This text was added to the website: 2017-05-07
Line count: 32
Word count: 194