The Beggar’s Child
MAVOURNEEN, we’ll go far away
From the net of the crooked town
Where they grudge us the light of the day.
Around my neck you will lay
Two tight little arms of brown.
Mavourneen, we’ll go far away
From the net of the crooked town.
And what will we hear on the way?
The stir of wings up and down
In nests where the little birds stay!
Mavourneen, we’ll go far away
From the net of the crooked town
Where they grudge us the light of the day.
