There's a spot in my heart which no colleen may own!
There's a depth in my soul never sounded or known.
There's a place in my mem'ry, my life, that you fill,
No other can take it, no one ever will!
Sure, I love the dear silver that shines in your hair,
And the brow that's all furrowed and wrinkled with care.
I kiss the dear fingers, so toil-worn for me,
God bless you, and keep you, Mother Machree!
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