When I heard Blind Mary’s song,
I was young enough to cry.
Blending with her magic harpsichord,
Feeling miracles nearby.
The child of an orphan house
Knew no earthly light at all.
Yet she dwelt within her dreams and sang:
Warming auld fair Dublin's soul.
Chorus
As I hear those eerie clangerings,
I begin to dream away…
Oh, how gladly would I turn the time
Back to Mary’s brightest day!
Whilst years with the rivers flow,
Whimsy charming fades in sands.
Mary passed away a little girl,
But her heritage prevails.
Баллада на народную ирландскую мелодию
Blind Mary
© Copyright: Станиславъ Шустовъ, 2026
Свидетельство о публикации №126021803943
Свидетельство о публикации №126021803943
Рецензии