ROSLEEN

“She's the darlin’ of the parish, she's the pride of Inniskillen;

‘ Twould make your heart lep up to see her trippin’ down the glen;

There's not a lad of life and fame that would n't take her shillin’

And inlist inside her service-did ye hear her laughin’ then?

Did ye see her with her hand in mine the day that Clancy married?

Ah, darlin’, how we footed it-the grass it was so green!

And when the neighbours wandered home, I was the guest that tarried,

An hour plucked from Paradise — come back to me, Rosleen!

Across the seas, beyand the hills, by lovely Inniskillen,

The rigiment come marchin’ — I hear the call once more

Shure, a woman's but a woman — so I took the Sergeant's shillin’,

For the pride o’ me was hurted — shall I never see her more?

She turned her face away from me, and black as night the land became;

Her eyes were jewels of the sky, the finest iver seen;

She left me for another lad, he was a lad of life and fame,

And the heart of me was hurted — but there's none that's like Rosleen!”