The Lass I Love
Patrick Reginald Chalmers
1872 to 1942
The lass I love, oh, red's her cheek,
Her eyes are bits o' heaven;
The reason isn't hard to seek —
Her mother's out of Devon.
The lass I love, her plaits are black,
Her tongue is soft and merry —
Her grandad got his pedlar's pack
Among the hills o' Kerry.
The lass I love has thrift for three,
For 'twas her mother's granny
That loved a sailor from Dundee,
Where all the folk are cannie.
Now naught o' hers I've found to link
With land of leek and daffy,
And yet she's thieved my heart (I'll think),
So there's your touch o' Taffy!
Patrick Reginald Chalmers's The Lass I Love
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