Barring o' the Door/The Maid of Judah
The Maid of Judah.
No more shall the children of Judah sing The lay of a happier time;Or strike the harp with the golden stringNeath the sun of an eastern clime;Or strike the harp with the golden string,Neath the sun of an eastern clime.
This, this was the lay of a Jewish maid,Though not in her father's bowers.So sweetly she sang as in sadness she stray'd,Oer the ruins of Babylon's towersNo more shall the children of Judah &c.
O where are the sons of mine ancient race,Who were born the jav'lin to bear! How fall'n is the city whose wreck I now trace,That once was so lovely and fair! The green grass grows on that fertile spot,Where once grew sweetest flowers;Land of my kindred thou'lt ne'er be forgot,While a ruin remains of thy towers! Land of my kindred thou'lt ne'er be forgot,While a ruin remains of thy towers!No more shall the children of Judah &c.