Oh! Sing Me Not That Song Again

Oh! sing me not that song again,
My lovely Norah dear,
The defiant tone, the martial strain,
It breaks my heart to hear.
‘Tis true ‘twas rapture once, sweet maid,
That song to hear thee sing,
And watch thee while my flashing blade
Thy bright eye rivalling,
And think how myriad blades as true
On Erin’s hills would gleam.
That vision fled—I little knew
‘Twould prove a fleeting dream.

CHORUS.
So sing me not that song again,
My lovely Norah dear—
The bold, the proud, defiant strain
It breaks my heart to hear.

’Tis true that once those words of flame
Could bear my soul away,
Until my spirit proud became
Impatient for the fray;
Ah! then I hoped old Erin’s green
Would soon o’er free men stream,
But that, my fondest wish, has been
A false, a fleeting dream.

CHORUS.
So sing me not that song again,
My lovely Norah dear—
The bold, the proud, defiant strain
It breaks my heart to hear.

Oh! tune me now some lay of old,
Some sorrowing lament
For gallant hearts for ever cold
And freedom’s banner rent;
Or, if you will, some tender tale
Of maiden fair and true,
As true when shame and grief assail,
And beautiful as you.

CHORUS.
So sing me not that song again,
My lovely Norah dear—
The bold, the proud, defiant strain
It breaks my heart to hear.