Near Banbridge town, in the County Down one morning last July,
down a bóithrín green came a sweet cailín and she smiled as she passed me by.
Oh, she looked so sweet from her two bare feet to the sheen of her nut brown hair.
Such a coaxing elf, sure I shook myself to see she was really there.
Of kies een abonnement:
Of kies een abonnement:
Agenda werkplaats
27 september 2026
Zingen
Koor op school
11 oktober 2026
Instrumentaal
Ukelele spelen
25 oktober 2026
Zingen
Koordag
29 oktober 2026
Instrumentaal
Bamboefluit bouwen
1 november 2026
Dans & beweging
Bewegend zingen met kleuters
8 november 2026
Zingen
Zingen met je klas
1.
Refr.
And from Bantry Bay up to Derry Quay and from Galway to Dublin town,
no maid I've seen like the brown cailín that I met in the County Down.
no maid I've seen like the brown cailín that I met in the County Down.
2.
As she onward sped I shook my head and I gazed with a feeling rare
and I said, says I, to a passerby "Who's the maid with the nut brown hair?"
He smiled at me, and with pride says he: "That's the gem of Ireland's crown;
she's young Rosie McCann from the banks of the Bann,
She's the star of the County Down."
and I said, says I, to a passerby "Who's the maid with the nut brown hair?"
He smiled at me, and with pride says he: "That's the gem of Ireland's crown;
she's young Rosie McCann from the banks of the Bann,
She's the star of the County Down."
3.
I've travelled a bit, but never was hit since my roving career began,
but fair and square I surrendered there to the charms of young Rose McCann.
I'd a heart to let and no tenant yet did I meet with in shawl or gown,
but in she went and I asked no rent from the star of the County Down.
but fair and square I surrendered there to the charms of young Rose McCann.
I'd a heart to let and no tenant yet did I meet with in shawl or gown,
but in she went and I asked no rent from the star of the County Down.
4.
At the crossroads fair I'll be surely there and I'll dress in my Sunday clothes.
And I'll try sheep's eyes, and deludhering lies on the heart of the nut brown rose.
No pipe I'll smoke, no horse I'll yoke though with rust my plow turns brown,
till a smiling bride by my own fireside sits the star of the County Down.
And I'll try sheep's eyes, and deludhering lies on the heart of the nut brown rose.
No pipe I'll smoke, no horse I'll yoke though with rust my plow turns brown,
till a smiling bride by my own fireside sits the star of the County Down.