Lark in the Morning, Wild Geese at Night
by Loralyn Coles

R:
Oh your whisper 'tis here in the still of the morn,
As the lark sings her song to the new risen day.
And I wake with a smile, feelin' you here beside me,
Then my heart breaks anew, for you're far, far away.

1:
‘Twas a [bad word] game they played when they gave ye one choice,
To join British ranks or to leave Irish land,
And tho' some gladly turned, you'd be less of a man,
If you faced your own friends with a sword in your hand.

R

2:
So we get through the day, tho' ‘tis hard and ‘tis cold,
And the whispers ‘round town seem to grow toward night,
And I watch with the rest for the Wild Geese, a-hoping
‘Tis not your own [bad word] home with this flight.

R