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Updated: May 12, 2025
The oak, ahagur; the oak. You'll get it atween the foot o' the bed an' the wall." When Kathleen placed the staff in his hand, he took off his hat and blessed himself, then put it on, looked at his wife, and said "Now darlin', in the name o' God, I'll go. Husht, avillish machree, don't be cryin'; sure I'll be back to you in a week." "Och! I can't help it, Owen.
"Well, I always loved Mary, but at that minute, if it would save her, I think I could spill my heart's blood for her. 'Mary, says I full to the throat, 'Mary, acushla agus asthore machree,* I could lose my life for you. *The very pulse and delight of my heart.
Mother Machree! The simple pathos of the voices, many of them tramping forward to their death, and thinking of mother, brought the tears to the eyes of the girls who had been mothers and sisters, as well as they could, to these boys during the days of their waiting. Then the song would die slowly away and another group would come by singing: "Tell mother I'll be there!"
"There, jewel machree!" she continued to Andy, soothingly, "don't take on you that way don't be afeerd, you're among friends Jack is only dhrunk dhrinking your health, darlin', but he adores you." Andy screeched. "But don't be afeerd, you'll be thrated tender, and he'll marry you, darlin', like an honest woman!" Andy squalled. "But not to-night, jewel don't be frightened."
"Widow machree, now the summer is come, Och hone! widow machree; When everything smiles, should a beauty look glum! Och hone! widow machree. See the birds go in pairs, And the rabbits and hares Why even the bears Now in couples agree; And the mute little fish, Though they can't spake, they wish, Och hone! widow machree.
"Well, sor, Oi hadn't been there more'n three 'r four minits, whin th' door opened, an' oot steps a little ould lady, aboot th' littlest an' ouldest Oi iver see in 'Frisco. "'Good avenin', Mother Machree, says Oi, touchin' me hat. "'Mother Machree! says she, an' gives me a sharp look. Also she sniffs. 'Ye poor man, says she. 'Ye'll catch yer death o' cold, out here.
Les petites femmes. Bold bad girl from the town of Mullingar. Tell her I was axing at her. Hauding Sara by the wame. On the road to Malahide. Me? If she who seduced me had left but the name. What do you want for ninepence? Machree, macruiskeen. Smutty Moll for a mattress jig. And a pull all together. Ex! Waiting, guvnor? Most deciduously. Bet your boots on.
Heath-broom, freestone, black turf, gather them up. Oh! gradh machree, Mavourneen, Won't you buy our heath-broom? When the season is over Won't we be in clover, With the gold in our pockets We got from heath-broom. It's home we will toddle, And we'll get a naggin, And we'll drink to the maidens that bought our heath-broom. Heath-broom, freestone, black turf, gather them up.
"Oh!" said he, enfolding her in his arms, and pressing his lips to hers: "Ellish, ahagur machree! sure when I think of all the goodness, an' kindness, an' tendherness that you showed me whin I think of your smiles upon me, whin you wanted me to do the right, an' the innocent plans you made out, to benefit me an' mine!
Oh, wurrah sthrew! wurrah sthrew! what'll become of us! Dick, agra, says she, crying, 'Dick, acushla machree, don't you hear, me spaiking to you! don't you hear your poor broken-hearted mother spaking to you? Oh! wurrah! wurrah! amn't I the heart-brokenest crathur that's alive this day, to see the likes of such doings! but I knew it would come to this!
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