Bonny Bonny
posted on:2008 years
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Bonny Bonny

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Bonny, bonny was my seat in the red rosy yard

And bonny was my ship in the town of Ballynagard

Shade and shelter was for me till I began to fail

You all may guess now my distress

lies near the Nightingale

Grief and woe that I must go to fight for England’s King

I neither know his friend or foe, and war’s a cruel thing

The nightingale is near at hand, my time at home is brief

And Carey’s steams and mountain land

I part with bitter grief

No more I’ll walk the golden hills with Nancy by my side

Or dream along the sun bright rills

or view my land with pride

We sail away at dawn of day, the sails are ready set

When old Benmore I see no more, I’ll sigh with deep regret

Now all must change and I must range across the ocean wide

Our ship she may in Biscay’s Bay lie low beneath the tide

If I should fall by cannon ball, or sink beneath the sea

Good people all, a tear let fall and mourn for mine and me

If God should spare me my greying hair and bring me back again

I’d love far more my Antrim shore

its dark blue hills and rain

Around the fires, my heart’s desires

heaven grant till life shall fail

And keep me far from the cruel war and from the Nighting

Bonny Bonny

****************************

****************************

Bonny, bonny was my seat in the red rosy yard

And bonny was my ship in the town of Ballynagard

Shade and shelter was for me till I began to fail

You all may guess now my distress

lies near the Nightingale

Grief and woe that I must go to fight for England’s King

I neither know his friend or foe, and war’s a cruel thing

The nightingale is near at hand, my time at home is brief

And Carey’s steams and mountain land

I part with bitter grief

No more I’ll walk the golden hills with Nancy by my side

Or dream along the sun bright rills

or view my land with pride

We sail away at dawn of day, the sails are ready set

When old Benmore I see no more, I’ll sigh with deep regret

Now all must change and I must range across the ocean wide

Our ship she may in Biscay’s Bay lie low beneath the tide

If I should fall by cannon ball, or sink beneath the sea

Good people all, a tear let fall and mourn for mine and me

If God should spare me my greying hair and bring me back again

I’d love far more my Antrim shore

its dark blue hills and rain

Around the fires, my heart’s desires

heaven grant till life shall fail

And keep me far from the cruel war and from the Nighting

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