DRIMENDOO A much admir'd Ancient Irish Air a Sung with great applause by Mrs Melmoth To which are adapted some verses written by Miss Owenson [no date]
A sorrowful ditty I'll tell you just now Of a poor man and he had but one Cow. It us'd for to drive her master's plow. He lost his poor Drimendoo & he can't tell you how.
CHORUS: O my Drimindoo O my gra O my Drimendoo deelish bra O my Drimendoo O my gra My Drimendoo deelish go dee thu slaun.
A Saturday morning being Friday last, I milk'd my poor Drimendoo on the green grass. So sweet was her milk and so sleeke was her tail, Och! I thought my poor heart wou'd leap into the pail. CHORUS
Arrah, dev'l take you! Drimendoo, why did you die? And lave me here alone for what and for why? I'd have rather lost my paydeen, my bouchill beg, Than my poor Drimendoo. Ochone, she is dead. CHORUS
* * * [A second song to the same tune:]
Oh! Farewell, dear Erin! My country, adieu! And farewell, my soul's dearer idol, to you! Tho' forc'd from my love and my country to part, Yet Eveline and Erin still hold my sad heart. Fast flows the tear of despair from my eye. Wild from my breast heaves the soul-rending sigh. Wherever I wander my suff'rings pursue, While my heart bleeds, dear Eveline, for Erin and for you.
Say, canst thou, oh maid of the dark falling eye, From Erin's green shades with a fond lover fly? Thy dear native land for thy lover resign, And far from dear Erin, dearer Eveline, be mine! An exile, an alien, they force me to stray, No faint beam of hope to illuminate the way. But wouldst thou, sweet Eveline, my destiny share, Ev'ry sorrow were light, ev'ry suff'ring I'd bear.