Poor Molly O'Flannagan (Lord rest her soul!)
Drank so deeply of whiskey, 'twas thought she would die;
Her fond lover, Pat, from her nate cabin stole,
And stepp'd into Dublin to buy her a pie.
Oh! poor Molly O'Flannagan!
Tho' chin-deep in sorrow, yet fun he lov'd well;
A pie-man pass'd near, crying "Pies" at his aise;
"Here are pies of all sorts." - "Oh! if all sorts you sell,
Then a twopenny magpie for me, if you plaise!"
Oh! poor Molly O'Flannagan!
An Irish Song
John Carr (sir)
(1)
Poem topics: fun, sorrow, soul, deep, thought, poor, I love you, I miss you, Print This Poem , Rhyme Scheme
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