Ivor Novello Follow

And no one knows the inner grief of my poor aching heart
And what I suffer for your sake, for the one I love so dear
I wish that I could go with you or you could tarry here

I wish my heart were made of glass, that in it I might behold
Your name in secret I would write in letters of bright gold
Your name in secret I would write, pray believe me when I say
You are the one that I love best until my dying day

Mo gra thu, A stoirin
(Irish Galiec: "I love you, my Darling")

And when you're on some distant shore think on your absent friend
And when the wind blows high and clear, a line or two pray send
And when the wind blows high and clear, pray send it love to me
That I may know by your hand-write how times have gone with thee

My dearest dear, the time is near when I and you must part
And no one knows the inner grief of my poor aching heart
And what I suffer for your sake, for the one I love so dear
I wish that I could go with you or you could tarry here

And no one knows the inner grief of my poor aching heart
And what I suffer for your sake, for the one I love so dear