#----------------------------------PLEASE NOTE---------------------------------#
#This file is the author's own work and represents their interpretation of the #
#song. You may only use this file for private study, scholarship, or research. #
#------------------------------------------------------------------------------##
Received: from animal-farm.nevada.edu by redrock.nevada.edu (5.65c/M1.4)
	with SMTP id ; Fri, 25 Jun 1993 11:47:57 -0700
Received: from sulu.orl.mmc.com by animal-farm.nevada.edu id ; Fri, 25 Jun 1993 11:47:55 -0700
Message-Id: 
Received: by sulu.orl.mmc.com
	(1.37.109.4/16.2) id AA13726; Fri, 25 Jun 93 14:47:06 -0400
From: Wes Jester 
Subject: ?IRISH//Noreen_Bawn.crd
To: jamesb@animal-farm.nevada.edu (jamesb@nevada.edu)
Date: Fri, 25 Jun 93 14:47:04 EDT
Mailer: Elm [revision: 70.85]






                                     Noreen Bawn
                                                      CAPO  2/3 

          G (320003@1)                G6 (320000@1)G (320003@1)                            G+    CE7AM (x32010@1)          There's a spot in old Tirconnel, there's a wee house in the glen,
                D7 (xx0212@1)           G (320003@1)          G7 (320001@1)                   G (320003@1)name="chord_x32010@1">C CM G (320003@1)         Where dwelt an Irish colleen, who inspired the hearts of men,
                                                                    C (x32010@1)name="chord_020130@1">E7 AM
          She was winsome, fair and hearty, shy and graceful as the fawn,
          D9                  D7 (xx0212@1)   G (320003@1)              D7 (xx0212@1)            G (320003@1)         Neighbors loved the widows daughter, happy, laughing Noreen Bawn.


          Then one day there came a letter, with her passage paid to go,
          To the land where the Missouri and the Mississippi flowed,
          So she said good-bye to Erin, and next morning at the dawn,
          A poor broken hearted mother bid farewell to Noreen Bawn.


          Many years that Mother waited, till one morning at the door,
          Stood a gorgeous looking lady, all grand the clothes she wore,
          Saying Mother don't you know me, sure I've only got a cold,
          But the purple spots upon her cheeks, the tragic story told.


          There's a graveyard in Tirconnel, where the blossoms sadly wave,
          There's a broken hearted Mother, knelling on a lonely grave,
          Saying my Noreen  you are  calling, its long  years since  you've
          gone,
          It was the curse of immigration, that laid you low my Noreen Bawn.