O, Woman of Three Cows, agragh! don't let your tongue thus rattle! 
O, don't be saucy, don't be stiff, because you may have cattle. 
I've seen  --  and, here's my hand to you, I only say what's true  --  
There's many a one with twice your stock not half so proud as you.  

Good luck to you, don't scorn the poor, and don't be their despiser,  
For worldly wealth soon melts away, and cheats the very miser,  
And Death soon strips the proudest wreath from haughty human brows; 
Then don't be stiff, and don't be proud, good Woman of Three Cows!  

See where Momonia's heroes lie, proud Owen More's descendants, 
'Tis they that won the glorious name, and had the grand attendants!  
If they were forced to bow to Fate, as every mortal bows,  
Can you be proud, can you be stiff, my Woman of Three Cows!   

 ... 

O'Ruark, Maguire, those souls of fire, whose names are shrined in story  --  
Think how their high achievements once made Erin's greatest glory  --  
 ... 

 ... 
Yes, who so great as they of yore in battle or carouse?  
Just think of that, and hide your head, good Woman of Three Cows!   

Your neighbour's poor, and you, it seems, are big with vain ideas, 
Because, inagh! you've got three cows, one more, I see, than she has.  
That tongue of yours wags more at times than Charity allows, 
But, if you're strong, be merciful, great Woman of Three Cows!    

Now, there you go!  You still, of course, keep up your scornful bearing, 
And I'm too poor to hinder you;  but, by the cloak I'm wearing, 
If I had but four cows myself, even though you were my spouse,  
I'd thwack you well to cure your pride, my Woman of Three Cows!