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[ar:] |
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[al:] |
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It is the month of September |
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in the year 1866 |
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an english gentleman Edwin war |
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who was traveling through the north of Ireland |
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road home to his family |
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I was at the Baleny station the other day |
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when I saw a distressing scene |
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a company of start young peasants were leaving by the train for Londonderry |
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from where they were to take shipping for America |
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The whole platform was crowded with their friends and relatives |
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all simple rustic folk |
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Form hooray headed age leaning upon the staff |
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to the unconscious infant crowing in his mather’s arms |
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The parting scene was painfully tarting. |
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Every eye was drowned in tears |
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and wild unrestrained cries of affection |
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as they embraced each other again and again |
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moved even the porters |
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to whom such scenes were familiar. |
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As the train began to move slowly away |
| [01:57.25]2 or 3 of those upon the platform clung[01:59.35] |
screaming to the carriage stores |
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until dragged away |
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And amongst the wild out cry that rows who were left behind |
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One poor woman fell back |
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upon the seat against the wall |
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wailing |
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oh my darling my darling |
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Whilst an old white headed man hard by |
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dropped down on his knees |
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with up lifted arms cried |
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oh may the hand of bliss of god be about thee |
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my own son |
