Where Lagan stream sings lullaby
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There blows a lily fair
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The twilight gleam is in her eye
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The night is on her hair
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And like a love-sick lenanshee
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She hath my heart in thrall
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Nor life I owe, nor liberty
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for love is lord of all
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and often when the beetles horn
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Hath lulled the eve to sleep
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I steal unto her shieling lorn
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And thro' the dooring peep
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There on the cricket's singing stone
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She spares the bog wood fire
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And hums in sad sweet undertone
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The song of heart's desire
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My Lagan Love
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Charlotte Church |