Classic Poem

I ONCE loved a boy, and a bold Irish boy,
Far away in the hills of the West;
Ah! the love of that boy was my jewel of joy,
And I built him a bower in my breast,
In my breast;
And I built him a bower in my breast.

I once loved a boy, and I trusted him true,
And I built him a bower in my breast;
But away, wirrasthrue! the rover he flew,
And robbed my poor heart of its rest,
Of its rest;
And robbed my poor heart of its rest.

The spring-time returns, and the sweet speckled thrush
Murmurs soft to his mate on her nest,
But for ever there's fallen a sorrowful hush
O'er the bower that I built in my breast,
In my breast;
O'er the desolate bower in my breast.