Last eve as I wandered quiet near
To the border's of my little farm
A beautiful maiden appeared
Whose loveliness caused my heart's harm
By her daring and love smitten sour
And the words from her sweet lips that came
To meet her I raced the field o'er
But for Ireland I'd not tell her name
If this beauty but my words would heed
The words that I speak would be true
I'd help her in every need
And indeed all her work I would do
To win one fond kiss from my love
I'd read her romances of fame
Her champion I daily would prove
But for Ireland I'd not tell her name.
There's a beautiful stately young maid
At the nearing of my little farm
She's welcoming kind unafraid
Her smile is both childlike and warm
Her gold hair in ma**es that grows
Like amber and sheen is that same
And the bloom in her cheeks like the rose
But for Ireland I'd not tell her name.