Where Lagan streams sings lullaby
There blooms a lily fair
And the moonlight gleam is in her eye
And the night is in her hair

And like the lovesick lenanshee
She does my heart in thrall
Nor life I owe, nor liberty
For love is lord of all

And often when the beetle's horn
Has lulled the eve to sleep
I creep unto her shielling lorn
And thro' the dooring peep

There on the cricket's singing-stone
She spares the bog wood fire
And hums in sad sweet undertone
The song of heart's desire