|
Oh[D] were I at the moss house Where the[A] birds do in[D]crease By the[A] foot of Mount[D] Leinster Or[Em]
some silent[A] place By the streams of Bun[D]cloudy Where all[Em] pleasures do[A] meet And[D] all that I ask is One[A]
kiss from you[D] sweet
Oh the streams of Buncloudy They flow down to the sea By the streams of Buncloudy I
am longing to be A-drinking stong liquor At the height of my cheer Here's a health to Buncloudy And the lass I
love dear
Oh the cuckoo is a pretty bird And she sings as she flies She brings us glad tidings And she tells
us no lies She sucks all of the small birds' eggs Just to make her voice clear And the more she sings cuckoo The
summer draws near
If I were a clerk And I could write a good hand I would write to my true love So that she'd
understand That I am a young fellow Who is wounded in love Once I lived in Buncloudy But now must remove
So
farewell to my father And my mother adieu To my sister and my brother Farewell unto you I am bound out for America My
fortune to try When I think on Buncloudy I am ready to die
|
 |
|
|
|
 |
Buncloudy Lyrics Without Chords
Oh were I at the moss house Where the birds do increase By the foot of Mount Leinster Or some silent place By
the streams of Buncloudy Where all pleasures do meet And all that I ask is One kiss from you sweet
Oh the
streams of Buncloudy They flow down to the sea By the streams of Buncloudy I am longing to be A-drinking stong
liquor At the height of my cheer Here's a health to Buncloudy And the lass I love dear
Oh the cuckoo is a
pretty bird And she sings as she flies She brings us glad tidings And she tells us no lies She sucks all of the
small birds' eggs Just to make her voice clear And the more she sings cuckoo The summer draws near
If I were
a clerk And I could write a good hand I would write to my true love So that she'd understand That I am a young
fellow Who is wounded in love Once I lived in Buncloudy But now must remove
So farewell to my father And
my mother adieu To my sister and my brother Farewell unto you I am bound out for America My fortune to try When
I think on Buncloudy I am ready to die
|
 |
|
|
|