The Rose of Killarney

I've been soft in a small way

On the girleens of Galway,

And the Limerick lasses have made me feel quare;

But there's no use denyin'

No girl I've set eye on

Wid the Rose of Killarney at all could compare.

O, where

Can her like be found?

Nowhere,

The country round,

Spins at her wheel

Daughter as true,

Sets in the reel,

Wid a slide of the shoe

a slinderer,

tinderer,

purtier,

wittier colleen than you,

Rose, aroo!

Her hair mocks the sunshine,

And the soft, silver moonshine

Neck and arm of the colleen complately eclipse;

Whilst the nose of the jewel

Slants straight as Carn Tual

From the heaven in her eye to her heather-sweet lips.

O, where, etc.

Did your eyes ever follow

The wings of the swallow

Here and there, light as air, o'er the meadow field glance?

For if not you've no notion

Of the exquisite motion

Of her sweet little feet as they dart in the dance.

O, where, etc.

If y'enquire why the nightingale

Still shuns the invitin' gale

That wafts every song-bird but her to the West,

Faix she knows, I suppose,

Ould Killarney 's a Rose

That would sing any Bulbul to sleep in her nest.

O, where, etc.

When her voice gives the warnin'

For the milkin' in the mornin'

Ev'n the cow known for hornin' comes runnin' to her pail;

The lambs play about her

And the small bonneens snout her,

Whilst their parints salute her wid a twisht of the tail.

O, where, etc.

When at noon from our labour

We draw neighbour wid neighbour

From the heat of the sun to the shilter of the tree,

Wid spuds fresh from the bilin'

And new milk you come smilin',

All the boys' hearts beguilin', alanah machree!

O, where, etc.

But there's one sweeter hour

When the hot day is o'er

And we rest at the door wid the bright moon above,

And she sittin' in the middle,

When she's guessed Larry's riddle

Cries, "Now for your fiddle, Shiel Dhuv, Shiel Dhuv."

O, where, etc.