The Coolun

Oh, had you seen the Coolun,

Walking down by the cuckoo’s street,

With the dew of the meadow shining

On her milk-white twinkling feet,

My love she is and my cooleen oge,

And she dwells at Bal’nagar;

And she bears the palm of beauty bright

From the fairest that in Erin are.

In Bal’nagar is the Coolun,

Like the berry on the bough her cheek;

Bright beauty dwells forever

On her fair neck and ringlets sleek;

Oh, sweeter is her mouth’s soft music

Than the lark or thrush at dawn,

Or the blackbird in the greenwood singing

Farewell to the setting sun.

Rise up, my boy, make ready

My horse, for I forth would ride,