"Norah Mc. Shane" [1850]
as sung by
Mr. T. Bishop,
poetry by
Miss Eliza [Elizabeth] Cook [1818-1889],
music composed & respectfully dedicated
to
C. A. Jarvis Esq.
by
W[illiam]. J. Wetmore, M. D.

New York, NY: FIRTH, POND & Co., No. 1 Franklin Square
Plate No. 638
Quidor, Eng[rave]r.
[Source: 128/024@Levy]

1. I’ve left Ballymornah a long way behind me,
  To better my forturne I’ve cross’d the big sea,
But I’m sadly alone not a creature to mind me,
  And faith! I’m as wretched as wretched can be!
I think of the buttermilk fresh as a daisy,
  The beautiful hills and the emerald plain,
And oh! don’t I often times think myself crazy
  About that young black eyed rogue Nora Mc. Shane!

2. I sigh for the turf pile so cheerfully burning,
  When barefoot I trudg’d it from toiling afar:
When I toss’d in the light of the Thirteen I’d been earning,
  And whistled the anthem of EringoBragh!
In truth I believe that I’m half broken hearted,
  To my country and love I must get back again:
For I’ve never been happy at all once I parted
  From sweet Ballymornah and Norah Mc. Shane.

3. Oh, there’s something so dear in the cot I was born in,
  Tho’ the walls are but mud and the rood is but thatch;
How familiar the grunt of the pigs in the morning,
  What music in lifting the rusty old latch:
Tis true I’d no money, but then I’d no sorrow,
  My pockets were light but my heart had no pain,
And if I but live till the sun shines tomorrow,
  I’ll be off to old Ireland and Norah Mc. Shane!