Lament to the Moon
As I strayed alone at the close of the day,
About the beginning of June,
'Twas there in a glade, I espied a fair maid,
As she sang her lament to the moon.
Roll along, silvery moon, guide the traveller on his way,
Whilst the nightingale sings a sweet tune.
There is no time so sweet as when true lovers meet
By the bright silvery light of the moon.
My love he was young and a bold fisherman,
His arms were brawny and strong.
His voice was clear and a pleasure to hear
When singing an old shanty song.
But his boat went down, and my true love had found
A grave 'neath the deep angry sea,
Never more to return, and it's for him I'll mourn,
Till the day that the clay covers me.
He bought me a ring, we appointed the day;
‘Twas married we were to be soon.
But alas to my grief he now lies in the deep,
Cut down like a rose in full bloom.
Roll along, silvery moon; guide the traveller on his way,
Whilst the nightingale sings her sweet tune.
There is no time so sweet as when true lovers meet
By the bright silvery light of the moon.
This is a song that I have heard Rita Gallagher sing at the Garry McMahon singing weekend in Abbeyfeale. Rita says she got it from the singing of fellow Donegal native, Packie Manus Byrne
