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Difference(s) between text #77182 and text #109669

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11O my head’s in a whirl for your sake Fan Fitzger’l!Wirra, wirra ollogone!
22Ah! white bosomed pearl of the coast of Kilkee!Can’t ye lave a lad alone,
33And here’s my hand to witness I’m kilt by the completenessTill he’s proved there’s no tradition left of any other girl –
44Of the cruelty and sweetness that in you so agree.Not even Trojan Helen,
5In beauty all excellin’ –
6Who’s been up to half the divelment of Fan Fitzgerl?
57
68For your blue eyes beneath their black silky sheathWid her brows of silky black
79Go darting such death on admiring man,Arched above for the attack,
810Love had better point his arrows from this out against the sparrows,Her eyes dart such azure death on poor admirin’ man;
911For our hearts they cannot harness like your soft glances, Fan.Masther Cupid, point your arrows,
12From this out, agin the sparrows,
13For your bested at love’s archery by young Miss Fan.
1014
1115And what not ever spread matched the curls of your head,See what showers of golden thread
1216For each gold waving thread it has noosed a brave boy!Lift and fall upon her head,
1317While your slender nose, my jewel, sure no precipice as cruel,The likes of such a trammel-net at say was niver spread;
1418Dips down from Carran Tual poor rovers to destroy.For whin accurately reckoned,
19‘Twas computed that each second
20Of her curls has cot a Kerryman and kilt him dead.
1521
1622I could go sighing on of your blush like the dawn,Now mintion, if ye will,
1723And a shape like the swan ‘neath your gown’s graceful curl!Brandon Mount and Hungry Hill,
1824But what need, when all the village has forsook its peaceful tillageOr Ma’g’llicuddy’s Reeks for cripplin’ all they can;
1925And flown to war and pillage for your sake, Fan Fitzger’l.Still the countryside confisses
26None of all its precipices
27Cause a quarther of the carnage of the nose of Fan.
28
29But your shatthered hearts suppose
30Safely steered apast her nose
31She’s a current and a reef beyant to wreck them rovin’ ships.
32My maning it is simple,
33For that current is her dimple,
34And the cruel reef ‘twill coax ye to’s her coral lips.
35
36I might inform ye further
37Of her bosom’s snowy murther,
38And an ankle ambuscadin’ through her gown’s delightful whirl;
39But what need, when all the village
40Has forsook its peaceful tillage
41And flown to war and pillage – all for Fan Fitzgerl!

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