"When wild flowers wake from their slumbers,
And shake the bright dew from each breast;
And Robin pours forth his sweet numbers,
To mate tucked away in her nest;
What form noiseless trips o'er the clover,
With step and with grace of a queen.
The neighbors all know her and love her.
My dear little Irish Colleen."
~Old Irish Folk Song
If only I knew how to sing it!
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1 comment:
She's a beaut!
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