In an Irish country home, one evening long ago
sat an old man and his little daughter Nell,
said a girl with Irish glee, as she played on papa's knee,
you promised me a story you would tell.
Come tell me of the past, of my mother dear she asked,
come tell me how she used to look, she cried.
Handsome Nell the old man said, as he slowly bent his head,
tears were in his eyes he then replied.
She was sweeter than the blossoms on the clover,
she was fairer than the evening sunset low,
but I never will forget, how much I loved her,
when your mother took my name long long ago.
We were married she and I, and in every way we tried,
to make our home a home of happiness,
till one bright September's morn, on the day that you were born,
God took her to a brighter home above.
In an Irish country home, one evening long ago,
said an old man to his little daughter Nell,
though the best of friends must part, she was nearer to my heart,
for your mother was the only one I loved.
For your mother was the only one I lo
