Song for March! The prompt was "Irish Folk", so have a very bad Irish accent!

I'll go down to the auld oke tree,
whar a lass sits waitin' fer me.
She'll rise up on 'er bare black feet
and smile a flash of ivory.

Oh, hand in hand we'll go,
scarcely wit a thought o' woe,
a-laughing, then, afore we know,
the world'll fall to far below.

[Tho, ye know, it's just a dream.
Nothin's lovely as it seems.
Oh, ye know, such stories told,
she's dancin' in my antipode.]

We'll go down to the auld oke tree,
a-humming in sweet harmony,
her starless face a lovely scene
and mine that can't stop smiling.

Wit her hair as jet blak wool,
dark eyes turn me wise to fool,
voice as clear as gentle pool,
them'll be her trusty tools. 

I'll take her by the hand
my faith shall she demand.
Oh, I'll then give it 
with the fervor o' the damned.

[Chorus]

I went dahn to the auld oke tree,
rested there beneath its leaves.
Still, but for a perfect breeze
and absolutely empty.

Can I miss what I've not had?
Maybe nothin's not so bad,
for tho I am a lonesome lad,
this auld oke tree has found me.

[Chorus]

Auld Oke Tree

FourbitFriday