Who's not heard of Eva Toole, Munster's purest, proudest jewel, Queen of Limerick's lovely maidens, Kerry's charming girls? As her gliding course she takes Like a swan across the lakes, With her voice of silver cadence, And her smile of pearls! Oh! the eyes of Eva Toole! Now why would not Cromwell cruel, Just have called two centuries later Here on Carrig height? For one angry azure flash From beneath her ebon lash! _ And away old Noll should scatter Out of Eva's sight. Is't describe you, Eva Toole? As she danced last night at Shrule, Her two feet like swallows skimmin' Up and down the floor; Or the curtsey that she dropped Ev'ry time the music stopped, Not the oldest men or women Saw such grace before. Yet altho' you bore the rule O'er us all then, Eva Toole, Ne'er a one but I was in it Of your sweethearts fine. And my heart's in such a riot, That to keep the crayture quiet I am running round this minute Just to make you mine!
- by Alfred Perceval Graves (1846 - 1931) [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 Charles Villiers Stanford, Sir (1852 - 1924), "Eva Toole", op. 76 no. 17, published 1901 [voice and piano], from Songs of Erin, no. 17, London, Boosey [text verified 1 time]
Researcher for this text: Mike Pearson
This text was added to the website: 2016-09-13
Line count: 32
Word count: 176