For Dhrames Always Go By Conthraries, My

For A Ballad's A Thing You Expect To Find Lies In.

A Baby Was Sleeping, Its Mother Was Weeping.

I'll Seek A Four Leaved Shamrock In All Thy Fairy Dells, And If I Find The Charmed Leaves, Oh, How I'll Weave My Spells!

There Was A Place In Childhood That I Remember Well, And There A Voice Of Sweetest Tone Bright Fairy Tales Did Tell.

There's Luck In Odd Numbers.