The Irish Peasant Girl [ft. AmaLee] ► Celtic Song by MandoPony
0MandoPony presents "The Irish Peasant Girl" - a poem by Charles Joseph Kickham, with music composed by Andrew Stein & featuring vocals by AmaLee!
ITUNES ► https://itunes.apple.com/us/album/the-irish-peasant-girl-feat-amalee-single/id1286452629?app=itunes&ign-mpt=uo%3D4
SPOTIFY ► https://open.spotify.com/album/5NpUIOtxpUG5vUVUHLz8cc
GOOGLE PLAY ► https://play.google.com/store/music/album/Andrew_Stein_The_Irish_Peasant_Girl_feat_AmaLee?id=B5t7njdmpfztpgaoj3tyn6uatxe
AMAZON ► https://www.amazon.com/Irish-Peasant-Girl-feat-AmaLee/dp/B075PLX5HL
I absolutely adore this poem, and have wanted to turn it into a song for a while. Luckily my good friend AmaLee agreed to lend her fantastic vocals to this, and turned in a magical performance. I really hope you enjoy this song as much as I enjoyed working on it!
FOLLOW AMALEE ON...
YOUTUBE ► https://www.youtube.com/user/LeeandLie
TWITTER ► https://twitter.com/AmaAmaLeeLee
INSTAGRAM ► https://www.instagram.com/amaamaleelee/
Also I want to say THANK YOU to Chelsey for the absolutely gorgeous artwork -- you nailed it!! YOU'RE THE BEST!
FOLLOW CHELSEY ON...
TWITTER ► https://twitter.com/Chebitz
TUMBLR ► http://chebits.tumblr.com/tagged/my%20art
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LYRICS:
She lived beside the Anner,
At the foot of Slievna-man,
A gentle peasant girl,
With mild eyes like the dawn;
Her lips were dewy rosebuds;
Her teeth of pearls rare;
And a snow-drift 'neath a beechen bough
Her neck and nut-brown hair
How pleasant was to meet her
On Sunday when the bell
Was filling with its mellow tone
Lone wood and grassy dell,
And when at eve young maidens
Strayed the river bank along,
The widow's brown-haired daughter,
Was loveliest of the throng
O brave, brave Irish girls-
We well may call you brave!-
Sure the least of all your perils
Is the stormy ocean wave,
When you leave our quiet valleys,
And cross the Atlantic's foam
To hoard your hard-won earnings,
For the helpless ones at home.
"Write word to my own dear mother,
Say we'll meet with God above;
And tell my little brothers,
I send them all my love;
May the angels ever guide them
Is their dying sister's prayer"-
And folded in a letter
Was a braid of nut-brown hair
Ah cold and well-nigh callous,
This weary heart has grown,
For thy helpless fate, dear Ireland
And for sorrows of my own
Yet a tear, my eye will moisten
When by Anner side I stray,
For the lily of the mountain foot,
That withered far away
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