  Air—The Swaggering Jig O! the marriage, the marriage, With love and mo bhuachaill for me, The ladies that ride in a carriage Might envy my marriage to me; For Eoghan is straight as a tower, And tender and loving and true, He told me more love in an hour Than the Squires of the county could do. Then, O! the marriage, etc. His eye is as clear as the day, His conscience and vote were unsold When others were carried away; His word is as good as an oath, And freely 'twas given to me; O! sure 'twill be happy for both The day of our marriage to see. Then, O! the marriage, etc. His kinsmen are honest and kind, The neighbours think much of his skill, And Eoghan's the lad to my mind, Though he owns neither castle nor mill. But he has a tilloch of land, A horse, and a stocking of coin, A foot for a dance, and a hand In the cause of his country to join. Then, O! the marriage, etc. We meet in the market and fair— We meet in the morning and night— He sits on the half of my chair, Yet I long through the winter to skim, Though Eoghan longs more, I can see, When I will be married to him, And he will be married to me. Then, O! the marriage, the marriage, With love and mo bhuachaill for me, The ladies that ride in a carriage Might envy my marriage to me. Thomas Davis |
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