Mabel mavourneen, wear the rose he give you now—I'll let you—and see it's fresh enough.
Ay, but you're not promisin', Bobby mavourneen; you're not promisin' all the time.
Ah, mavourneen, mavourneen, you'll never come back alive to me again.
Hallo, Kathleen mavourneen, I draw the line at the poker, young lady.
You will have the wish to Come back to Erin, mavourneen, after making this little tour.
That you, mavourneen, wish to set your heel on Ulster's head.
mavourneen, you must save me quick, or worse will happen yet.
So just put your little hand in mine, and it'll be all right, mavourneen!
Ay, Paddy, mavourneen; I'll be bail they didn't skit and laugh the way some people would be doin'.
It was the voice of some one singing “mavourneen,” that sweet Irish melody which has charmed and will always charm thousands.