Mary of Tipperary
Samuel Lover

From sweet Tipperary see light-hearted Mary,
Her step, like a fairy, scarce ruffles the dew
As she joyously springs, and she joyously sings,
Disdaining such things as a stocking or shoe;
For she goes bare-footed, like Venus or Cupid,
And who’d be so stupid to put her in silk,
When her sweet foot and ankle the dew-drops bespangle,
As she trips o’er the lawn at the blush of the dawn,
As she trips o’er the lawn with her full pail of milk.

For the dance when arrayed, see this bright mountain maid,
If her hair she could braid with young beauty’s fond lure,
O’er some clear fountain stooping, her dark tresses looping,
Diana herself ne’er had mirror more pure!
How lovely that toilet – would Fashion dare soil it
With paint or with patches when Nature bestows
A beauty more simple, in mirth’s artless dimple?
Heaven’s light in her eye – the soft blue of the sky –
Heaven’s light in her eye, and a blush like a rose!

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