The Dark-Eyed Colleen
My Hely's soft fingers
The touch of them lingers,
But her nails they are stingers,
I still feel the smart.
Sure Cupid must teach ye
The way how to reach me,
Go soft, I beseech ye:
You're touching my heart.
The touch of them lingers,
But her nails they are stingers,
I still feel the smart.
Sure Cupid must teach ye
The way how to reach me,
Go soft, I beseech ye:
You're touching my heart.
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