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My Irish Lady
When she was born they called her Eileen.
On the Saint’s Day she always wore green.
Big, wide, shining blue eyes,
Slender limbs and wispy sighs,
Light silky skin, smooth so fair,
Flaxen, yea, gold the color of her hair,
This was my lady.
My Irish Lady, beautiful colleen.
My Irish Lady, should ha’e been a queen.
My Irish Lady, made me a king!
By the altar, I waited my bride.
She wore white, purity personified.
I said I do, she said me too.
It was a sweet beckoning coo.
She wore my ring forty-two years
And helped me lose so many fears.
This was my lady.
My Irish Lady, wore my gold ring.
My Irish Lady, should ha’e been a queen.
My Irish Lady, made me a king!
All this time she gave naught but love.
Now her Irish eyes smile from above.
She is my sainted lady,
My Lady