"Molly Moriarty" (1875)
By Lionel De Meyer

Boston, MA: G. D. Russell & Company, 126 Tremont St.
Providence, RI: Cory Bros.
San Francisco, CA: McCurrie & Weber
Plate No. 3620-4
Schlimper, Engr[aver].
[Source: 134/001a@Levy]

1. Molly Moriarty, Pink of propriety,
Molly Moriarty, Molly my own;
Sure ’tis your Tim is sad,
How could his heart be glad,
Since like an icicle Molly has grown?
Och! ’twas your eyes so blue
Cut my poor heart in two,
Each took a half of it, carries it off;
Then when I spoke of love,
Swore by the stars above,
Sure ’twas unkind of you, Molly to scoff.

2. Oft at my cabin door,
When the dull day is o’er,
Sadly I sit and send sighs on the gale;
Rain from my weeping eyes,
Fully a stream supplies,
Where drink the cows that are grazed in the vale.
Pigs in a pratie patch,
Running a rootin’ match,
Sow in the buttermilk drinking her fill,
Cow in the cabbages,
Making sad ravages,
Every thing gone to destruction at will.

3. Soon in the waters deep,
Tim’s weary head shall sleep,
Suckers and shiners shall nibble my nose;
Waves rolling over me,
Singing a lullaby,
Or a sad requiem when the wind blows.
What’s that you’re saying, joy?
“Tim come and kiss me, boy!”
Here, hold my hat, while I skip on the flore;
Come to my arms, my love,
Molly, my turtle dove,
Whoop! what a jewel you are to be sure.