Слова:
Sinead O Connor The Parting Glass

harm that ever I've done, alas it was to none but me. And all I've done for want of wit to mem'ry now I can't recall; So fill to me the parting glass,

harm that ever I've done, alas it was to none but me. And all I've done for want of wit to mem'ry now I can't recall; So fill to me the parting glass,

And ll the harm I've ever done, alas it was to none but me And all I've done for want of with to memory now I can't recall So fill to me the parting glass