Sheet Music Lyrics

The lament of the Irish emigrant
Words: Mrs. Price Blackwood
Music: William R. Dempster

I'm sitting on the stile Mary, 
    where we sat side by side
On a bright May morning long ago 
    when first you were my bride
The corn was spring fresh and green 
    and the lark sang loud and high
And the red was on thy lip Mary, 
    and the love light in your eye

The place is little chang'd, Mary, 
    the day as bright as then
The lark's loud song is in my ear, 
    and the corn is green again
But I miss the soft clasp of your hand, 
    and your breath warm on my cheek
And I still keep list'ning for the 
    words my never more may speak

'Tis but a step down yonder lane, 
    and the little church stands near
The church where we were wed, Mary, 
    I see the spire from here
But the graveyard lies between, Mary, 
    and my step might break your rest
For I've laid you darling down to sleep, 
    with your baby on your breast

I'm very lonely now, Mary, 
    for the poor make no new friends
But oh! they love them better far, 
    the few our father sends!
And you were all I had, Mary, 
    my blessing and my pride
There's nothing left to care for now, 
    since my poor Mary dies

Your's was the brave good heart, Mary, 
    that still kept hoping on
When the trust in God had left my soul 
    and my arm's young strength had gone
There was comfort ever on your lip and 
    the kind look on your brow
I bless you for that same, Mary, 
    though you can't hear me now

I thank you for that patient smile when 
    your heart was fit to break
When the hunger pain was gnawing there and 
   you bid it, for my sake
I bless you for the pleasant word when your 
    heart was sad and sore
Oh I'm thankful you are gone, Mary, 
    where grief can't reach you more

I'm bidding you a long farewell, my Mary, 
   kind and true
But I'll not forget you darling in the 
   land I'm going to
They say there's bread and work for 
   all and the sun shines always there
But I'll not forget old Ireland where 
   it fifty times as fair

And often in those grand old woods 
   I'll sit and shut my eyes
And my heart will travel back again 
   to the place where Mary lies
And I'll think I see the little 
   stile where we sat side by side
And the springing corn and the bright 
   May morn when first you were my bride.