Judy, lovely, matchless creature

Judy, lovely, matchless creature,

Beauty shines thro' ev'ry feature,

Like yon light, the pride of nature,

Thro' the morning dew.

Come, then, to your Patrick's dwelling,

All around the buds are swelling,

Ev'ry little linnet's telling,

'Tis the time to woo.

Dame o' Flyn, sweet Judy's mother,

Would you bid me passion smother!

Sure I'll speak as well's another

Tho' poor Pat O' Doyle.

Love within my breast is teazing,

Where I dumb 'twould be amazing;

Sooner, when the coals are blazing,

Bid your pot not boil.