Last eve as I wandered quiet near To the border's of my little farm A beautiful maiden appeared Whose loveliness caused my heart's harm By her daring and love smitten sour And the words from her sweet lips that came To meet her I raced the field o'er But for Ireland I'd not tell her name If this beauty but my words would heed The words that I speak would be true I'd help her in every need And indeed all her work I would do To win one fond kiss from my love I'd read her romances of fame Her champion I daily would prove But for Ireland I'd not tell her name. There's a beautiful stately young maid At the nearing of my little farm She's welcoming kind unafraid Her smile is both childlike and warm Her gold hair in ma**es that grows Like amber and sheen is that same And the bloom in her cheeks like the rose But for Ireland I'd not tell her name.