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Where Lagan stream sing lullaby. There blows a lily fair. When twilight gleam is in her eyes. The night is on her hair. And like a love - sick lenanshee. She hath my heart in thrall. No life have I, no liberty. With love is lord of all. And sometimes when the beetles horn. Hath lulled the eve to sleep. I steal unto her shieling low. And through her dooreen peep. Nés et élevés à Dun.
DO NOT enter the entire link. Just the name! For the Ask-box to work. Places you might want to be at! This was my old blog named summer-swagging. And is present just to save the name and prevent its misuse.