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I often dream of Ireland, that isle across the sea It is my native birth place, it's where I long to be Although I left it long ago, I love old Ireland still For I spent many happy days, in the Cottage On The Hill I still can see my mother on that morning long ago She was so frail but beautiful, her voice was sad and low And as she coiled her silver hair, her hands were white and still Our mother loved our little home, the Cottage On The Hill I could see the anguish on her face, as she said her last goodbye She threw her arms around me, and tears ran from her eyes She said it's sad you have to go, foe you each night I'll pray I'll ask the lord to spare me, till you return someday And then I held her by the hand, twas time for us to part I sailed away from Ireland, but with a broken heart And as I crossed that stormy sea, that night I cried my fill I had left my mother all alone, in that Cottage On The Hill My mother died that very year when I was far away She didn't have the strength to live, till I returned some day And now she's lying in her grave so peaceful and so still In the graveyard by the little church, near the Cottage On The Hill The writing on the headstone reads, "A mother so good and kind Erected by her loving son", who's left her far behind But there's no flowers on her grave, a rose sits on the sill There's no-one left to visit her, in the Cottage On The Hill Her photo stands beside my bed, it reminds me of the day I left my mother all alone, and sailed so far away Each night I kneel and say a prayer, I hope I always will She gave me many happy days in the Cottage On The Hill |