THE WHISPERING RIVER STRULE

I was dreaming last night of a distant land – that Emerald Isle so fair;

                With her mist clouded valleys and mountains grand, those gems so rich and rare.

Tho ‘tis only in fancy I wander, again by those tree-shaded streams

                I crave not for wealth, if by day I have health, and at night time happy dreams

( Chorus)

Leave me a memory of Ireland, of springtime in County Tyrone

                The mist over the valley and mireland, and a cottage that once was my own.

Let me picture the old town of Omagh, where I as a boy went to school

                And the Lover’s Retreat, where fond sweethearts still meet,

By the Whispering River Strule.

In dreamland I live o’er the past again recalling each smile and tear

                Those scenes that I longed for each day in vain, by night are always near.

The heath covered slopes of Glenhordial, when kissed by the sun’s parting beams,

                And the moon’s silvery light, o’er the woodlands at night

I can see in happy dreams.

( Chorus)

Leave me a memory of Ireland, of springtime in County Tyrone

                The mist over the valley and mireland, and a cottage that once was my own.

Let me picture the old town of Omagh, where I as a boy went to school

                And the Lover’s Retreat, where fond sweethearts still meet,

By the Whispering River Strule.

And the Lover’s Retreat, where fond sweethearts still meet,

By the Whispering River Strule.

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