[Old Sarge]

See her sitting there, see her smiling?
Flashing grin all sweet and beguiling,
lithe of limb and buxom form
but, don't you wonder how she was born?

"From th' Land o' Emerald Isles, I came,
sure an' Fiona is my name,
From th' Emerald Lands, I came, says I,
from where wind o'er heath an' heather sigh,
Songs o' gladness in me heart,
t'be rendin' clouds o' sorrow apart,

"Mark ye, lads, that on which I perch,
tho' long ye be lookin, an' hard be th' search,
For nae just any crock o' gold, this be,
but Coin o' th' Realm o' Happiness for thee!"

[Soaring Feather]

I see her there the little muse
hitchin' a ride without a clue
which bend in the road she will pursue
Fiona's a flirt to be sure
she'll tickle your ear without a word
and whisper things you'll swear you've heard
Ah, an impish rascal she, and thank goodness
she is good company
for down by the glen where the ghosts do haunt
fear is never a thing of her wont