EILY DEAR
words Fred E Weatherly, written to an old Irish air



Oh, Eily dear, the pipes, the pipes are calling
From glen to glen, and down the mountain side
The summer's gone, and all the roses falling
It's I, it's I must go, and you must bide.
But I'll come back when summer's in the meadow
Or when the valley's hushed and white with snow
And you'll be here in sunshine or in shadow
Oh Eily dear, oh Eily dear, I love you so.

Someday, may be, when all the flow'rs are dying
And I am dead, as dead I well may be
Ye'll come and find the place where I am lying
And kneel and say an Ave there for me.
And I shall hear, though soft you tread above me
And all my grave will warmer, sweeter, be
For you will bend and tell me that you love me
And I shall sleep in peace until you come to me.

Copyright 1913 by Boosey & Co
New Edition Copyright 1918 by Boosey & Co
NP