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 “Oh give to me this darling child,
And take my purse of gold.”
‘Nay, not by me,’ her master said,
“Shall sweet Kathleen be sold.
We loved her in the place of one
The Lord hath early ta'en;
But, since her heart's in Ireland,
We give her back again! “
Oh, for that same the saints in heaven
For his poor soul shall pray,
And Mary Mother wash with tears
His heresies away.
Sure now they dwell in Ireland;
As you go up Claremore
Ye'll see their castle looking down
The pleasant Galway shore.
And the old lord's wife is dead and gone,
And a happy man is he,
For he sits beside his own Kathleen,
With her darling on his knee.
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