by Alfred Perceval Graves (1846 - 1931)

O thou of the beautiful hair
Language: English 
Of all the girls with clustering curls from Kerry to Kildare,
There’s not a lass that can surpass my love with the golden hair.
Oh! if the sun should cease to shine, the moon refused her ray,
Her very shadow on the earth would turn the night to day.

Now what’s my chance to gain a glance from one so good and fair,
With all the boys from Clanmacnoise to Cork around her chair?
Yet somehow still she steals one look upon me through the throng;
And when I sing, with smiles and tears she answers to my song.

Authorship

Musical settings (art songs, Lieder, mélodies, (etc.), choral pieces, and other vocal works set to this text), listed by composer (not necessarily exhaustive)


Researcher for this text: Mike Pearson

This text was added to the website: 2015-04-08
Line count: 8
Word count: 99