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Fortune befriend him, always attend him,
and still defend him where'ev he goes;
By land and water may angels guard him,
while he's at war with his country's foes.

O that I were a nimble Sailor,
no scars nor dangers would I fear,
But freely enter, and boldly venture,
to range the seas with my Sailor dear.

Since now my dear has cross'd the ocean,
I grieve alone with a bleeding heart!
And sickle fortune, which is uncertain,
has caus'd my darling and me to part.

No man shall ever obtain my favour,
my heart it loyal in love sincere;
Till death destroy me, none shall enjoy me,
except my charming Sailor dear.

The Poor Exile of Erin.

There came to the beach a poor exile of Erin;
The dew on his thin robe was heavy and chill,
For his country he sigh'd, when at twilight repairing
To wander alone by the wind-beaten hill:
But the day star attracted his eyes' sad devotion,
For it rose on his own native isle of the ocean.
Where once, in the flow of his youthful emotion,
He sung the bold anthem of Erin Go Bragh.