Moorlough Shore

your hills and dales and flowery vales
that lie near the Moorlough Shore
your vines that blow by borden's grove
will I ever see you more?
where the primrose blows
and the violet grows
where the trout and salmon play
with the line and hook, delight I took
to spend my youthful days

last night I went to see my love
and to hear what she might say
to see if she'd take pity on me
lest I might go away
she said: "I love that Irish lad
and he was my only joy
and ever since I saw his face
I've loved that soldier boy,"
perhaps your soldier boy was lost
while sailing 'cross the sea of Maine
or perhaps he is gone with some other lover
you may never see him again
she said:
"well if my Irish boy is lost
he's the one I do adore
and seven years I will wait for him
by the banks of the Moorlough Shore,"

farewell to sinclaire's castle grand
farewell to the foggy hill
where the linen waves like bleached silk
and the banching stream runs still
near there I spent my youthful days
but alas they are not now mine
for cruelty has banished me
far away from the Moorlough Shore