ST. PATRICK BLESSED HER EYES
Och, she was born St. Patrick's morn 'Tis then the fairies dance,The Phooka lumbered past her door With malice in his glance,He said "This rose shall bear a thorn." The shamrock plant that liesBeside the doorstep whispered low "St. Patrick bless her eyes!"
When she was born the Leprachaun Looked slyly thro' the pane,He chirped "She shall be white as snow And cold as silver rain."But och, the little valley wren The hawthorn bush made wise,Sang all night by the cabin thatch "St. Patrick bless her eyes!"
When she was born the Corrigaun Came out along the hill,And poured for her the beauty drop From her cup's crystal fill;And lest she should be hard and vain The beauty that denies,The speckled trout wrote down the stream, "St. Patrick bless her eyes!"
