The Sandhead Village Belle (original poem: John Murray - adapted Paul O’Brien)

 

In a cosy wee spot by the side of the sea,

The village of Sandhead reposes,

Well sheltered by trees from the stiff north-west breeze,

On its walls grow sweet brier and roses.

 

But no flower so rare ever scented the air,

No rosebud e’er looked half so grand,

As the bell of the village, so charming and fair,

Young artless and leal-hearted Nan.

 

She’s modest and neat, she is trig and complete,

Deny my assertion who can,

Her equal has never been seen on the street

Far above all the lassies towers Nan.

In the gay summer time, when the sun brightly shines,

She’s as cheery as cheery can be,

And when winter comes in with its wild noise and din,

She delights in the roar o’ the sea.

 

But no flower so rare ever scented the air,

No rosebud e’er looked half so grand,

As the bell of the village, so charming and fair,

Young artless and leal-hearted Nan.

 

When Prince Cupid’s dart has pierced her young heart,

When she’s forced to surrender her hand,

As a maid or a bride she will aye do her part,

For a sensible girl is Nan.

‘Tis my earnest prayer, He, who can still the wild sea,

May aye keep the lassie in hand,

Her soul keep untarnished, and spotless, and free,

And guide well the footsteps of Nan.

 

But no flower so rare ever scented the air,

No rosebud e’er looked half so grand,

As the bell of the village, so charming and fair,

Young artless and leal-hearted Nan.