| It was on a fine summer’s morning | 
| When the birds sweetly tuned on each bough | 
| I heard a fair maid sing most charming | 
| As she sat a’milking her cow; | 
| Her voice so enchanting, melodious | 
| It left me scarce unable to go | 
| My heart it is soothed in solice | 
| My cailín deas crúite na mbó | 
| With courtesy, I did salute her | 
| «Good morrow, most young, noble maid | 
| I am your captive slave for the future.» | 
| «Kind sir, do not banter,» she said | 
| «I'm not such a rare precious jewel | 
| That I should enamour you so | 
| I am just a plain country girl,» | 
| Says cailín deas crúite na mbó | 
| «I'll beg you’ll withdraw and don’t tease me | 
| I cannot consent unto thee | 
| I like to live single and airy | 
| Till more of the world I do see | 
| New cares they would me embarrass | 
| Besides, sir, my fortune is low | 
| Until I get rich I’ll not marry,» | 
| Says cailín deas crúite na mbó | 
| «A young maid is like a ship sailing | 
| There’s no knowing how long she may steer | 
| For with every blast she’s in danger | 
| Oh, consent love and banish all care | 
| For riches I care not a farthing | 
| Your affection I want and no more | 
| In comfort I’d wish to enjoy you | 
| My cailín deas crúite na mbó.» |