PAT MURPHY'S MEADOW

The autumn winds are here again and the night winds chilly grow
The woodland turns to golden hue and the harvest moon's a-glow
To hear again of days long past, to come no more I know
When I mowed Pat Murphy's meadow in the sunny long ago

I see again the ocean and the distant sails afar
As the maiden in the meadow strikes up "Dark Lough na Gar"
There was music soft and tender in the winds that whisper low
When I mowed Pat Murphy's meadow in the sunny long ago

Where are the happy boys and girls that danced the gay quadrille
Or the singer who warbled sweetly "The Burning Granite-Mill"
To hear again at sunset "Where Sweet Afton waters Flow"
When I mowed Pat Murphy's meadow in the sunny long ago

Those days are but a memory like the snows of yesteryear,
And when evening shades are falling, all alone I shed a tear
On my cheek I feel the soft touch of the winds that whisper low
When I mowed Pat Murphy's meadow in the sunny long ago