1.
You hills and dales and flowery vales
That lie near the Moorlough Shore;
You winds that blow by borden’s grove,
Will I ever see you more?
Where the primrose grows and the violet blows;
Where the trout and salmon play,
With my line and hook delight I took
To spend my youthful days.
2.
As I roved out to see my love
To hear what she would say,
And to see if she’d take pity on me,
Before I must go away.
She said, ‘I loved an Irish lad,
And he was my only joy;
And ever since I saw his face,
I have loved that sailor boy.’
3.
‘Perhaps your sailor boy was lost
While sailing o’er the raging main,
Or perhaps he is gone with some other one;
You may never see him again.’
‘Well, if my Irish lad is lost,
He’s the one I do adore,
And for seven years I will wait on him
On the banks of the Moorlough Shore.’
4.
Farewell to St Claire’s castle grand;
Farewell to Holly Hill!
Where the linen webs lie bleaching silk,
And the purling streams run still.
Near there I spent my youthful days,
But alas, they are all o’er,
And that’s cruelty has banished me
Far away from the Moorlough Shore.