When I was just a wee young lad, so bright and true,
me father told me. “Son,” he said so, “Nina never loved you.”
When I asked him what I did to fill her scorn at my affections,
he just sighed, said that’s the way that it’d been for generations.
I asked me Uncle Reggie, who from north of Eire came,
why her bright green eyes had filled him after with such shame.
He said a girl would never care for savages like we
and only fools would ever let such blood just to be free.
And so we sang our songs to celebrate what came before
my father’s father left his love behind on kelly shores.
And though I’m told to leave the pain of heartbreak in the past,
I keep her still with me for fear that mine could be the last.