Michael Carney O, full of blarney O;
Bridget McCue an Irish rose,
Met one morning O, day was dawning O,
This is the way the story goes,
She said to him, “let me pass upon my way,”
He said to her “wont you stay? say,
I’ll not let you go till you kiss me, no,
Ah, ha, ha, ha, tis fine the day.
Top o’ the mornin’ Bridget McCue,
Fresh as a shamrock covered with dew,
Sure I’d walk a hundred miles, just to see one of your smiles,
And to peep into your eyes of Irish blue, that’s true,
Bridget me darlin’ what will I do,
My heart’s a thumpin’ thinkin’ a you,
When I gaze upon your charms I could roll you in my arms,
Sure as you’re born,
Top o’ the morn, Bridget McCue.
Bridget paused awhile, then said with a smile,
Sure you’ve been after me for days,
With your blarney talk, that you brought from Cork,
Faith and it’s you, has coaxing ways;”
Then Michael said, with a twinkle in his eye,
“Look at that cloud in the sky, my!”
When she turned to look, quick a kiss he took,
Ah, ha, ha, ha, said he, “goodbye.”
Von Tilzer, Harry and Sterling, Andrew B., "Top O' the Mornin', "Bridget McCue"" (1907). Historic Sheet Music Collection. 1695.
The views expressed in this paper are solely those of the author.