There's a spot in old Tir conaell, there's a wee house in the glen, Where dwelt an fairest colleen, who charmed the hearts of men, She was winsome hale
Oh, my love is like a red, red rose That's newly sprung in June Oh, my love is like a melody That's sweetly played in tune As fair art thou, my bonnie
They come from the farms and the factories too And they all soon forget who they are. The cares of today are soon washed away As they sit at a stool
The Dutchman's not the kind of man Who keeps his thumb jammed in the dam That holds his dreams in, But that's a secret that only Margaret knows. When
As I was a goin' over the far famed Kerry mountains I met with captain Farrell and his money he was counting I first produced my pistol and I then produced