Текст песни Fhear a Bhata - Rebecca Pidgeon
How
often
haunting
the
highest
hilltop,
I
scan
the
ocean
thy
sail
to
see;
Wilt
come
tonight,
love?
wilt
come
tomorrow?
Wilt
ever
come,
love,
to
comfort
me?
Fhir
a
bhata,
no
horo
eile,
Fhir
a
bhata,
no
horo
eile,
Fhir
a
bhata,
no
horo
eile,
O
fare
thee
well,
love,
where'er
ye
be.
They
call
thee
fickle,
they
call
thee
false
one,
And
seek
to
change
me,
but
all
in
vain;
No,
thou'rt
art
my
dream
yet
throughout
the
dark
night,
And
every
mornin
I
scan
the
main.
Fhir
a
bhata,
no
horo
eile,
Fhir
a
bhata,
no
horo
eile,
Fhir
a
bhata,
no
horo
eile,
O
fare
thee
well,
love,
where'er
ye
be.
There's
not
a
hamlet
-too
well
I
know
it-
Where
you
go
wandering
or
sat
awhile,
But
all
its
old
folk
you
win
with
talking,
And
charm
its
maidens
with
song
and
smile.
Fhir
a
bhata,
no
horo
eile,
Fhir
a
bhata,
no
horo
eile,
Fhir
a
bhata,
no
horo
eile,
O
fare
thee
well,
love,
where'er
ye
be.
Dost
thou
remember
the
promise
made
me,
The
tartan
plaidie,
the
silken
gown,
The
ring
of
gold
with
thy
hair
and
portrait?
That
gown
and
ring
I
will
never
own.
Fhir
a
bhata,
no
horo
eile,
Fhir
a
bhata,
no
horo
eile,
Fhir
a
bhata,
no
horo
eile,
O
fare
thee
well,
love,
where'er
ye
be.
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