I've no sheep on the mountain, nor boat on the lake,
Nor coin in my coffer to keep me awake,
Nor corn in my garner, nor fruit on my tree --
Yet the Maid of Llanwellyn smiles sweetly on me.

Soft tapping at eve to her window I came,
And loud bayed the watch-dog, loud scolded the dame.
For shame, silly Lightfoot! what is it to thee,
Though the Maid of Llanwellyn smiles sweetly on me?

Rich Owen will tell you with eyes full of scorn,
Threadbare is my coat and my hosen are torn :
Scoff on,  ...  rich Owen, for faint is thy glee
When the maid of Llanwellyn smiles sweetly on me.

 ...