The Irish Ferries

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      The Irish Ferries

 ( Lines written in memory of Lizzie Christian, a Liverpool flower seller. )

It’s cold, my deary, it’s cold,
said the flower woman,
speaking to the sailor man,
on his way down to Liverpool Bay,
who had only come to say,
he could not stay.
Where do you go to, my bright cherry?
Do you go to Dublin dock,
to board an Irish ferry?
she asked him, to unfasten his lock.
Will you sail away on one of the Irish ferries?
More lovely the sound of them
than a basket of berries.
Will you buy some roses
for the flower woman’s daughter,
to let fall on the waves of the grey sea water,
and watch them float out on the Irish Sea?
Will you promise your true love
there is no one else but she?
Will you sing goodnight, ladies,
goodnight, ladies, goodnight,
as you sail from Liverpool harbour?
You only came to say,
you could not stay.
Sail out from Liverpool Bay,
on board one of the Irish ferries,
more lovely the sound of them
than a basket of berries.
Sail on, on board your Irish ferry,
my bright cherry,
singing goodnight, goodnight ladies,
sing on, sing on, my bright cherry.

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