Lark in the Morning, Wild Geese at Night by Loralyn Coles
R: Oh your whisper 'tis here in the still of the morn, As the lark sings her song to the new risen day. And I wake with a smile, feelin' you here beside me, Then my heart breaks anew, for you're far, far away.
1: ‘Twas a cruel game they played when they gave ye one choice, To join British ranks or to leave Irish land, And tho' some gladly turned, you'd be less of a man, If you faced your own friends with a sword in your hand.
R
2: So we get through the day, tho' ‘tis hard and ‘tis cold, And the whispers ‘round town seem to grow toward night, And I watch with the rest for the Wild Geese, a-hoping ‘Tis not your own soul coming home with this flight.