Thomas Moore Reimagined

Has Sorrow Thy Young Days Shaded

Come O'er the Sea

I Wish I Was by That Dim Lake

Oh! Tis Sweet to Think

She Is Far from the Land

Believe Me, If All Those Endearing Young Charms

Come, Send Round the Wine

Oft in the Stilly Night

Sail On

Silent, O Moyle

Oh Think Not My Spirits Are Always as Light

Though the Last Glimpse of Erin