There's a lane down by the river, 
Where the cuckoos soonest call, 
'Tis the loveliest place in Ireland
When the evening shadows fall; 
But for fear of ghosts or fairies, 
Faith! I dare not wander through, 
Without someone to mind me, 
Oh! colleens dear, could you? 

There's a stile beside a meadow
In the middle of the lane, 
Such an awkward, dear old stile it is,
I try to climb in vain, 
Until someone helps me over 
To a cosy seat for two; 
I could linger there for ever, 
Oh! girls dear, couldn't you?  

There's a meadow deck'd with daisies, 
Not a step beyond the stile, 
Where the blithe song of the blackbird 
Could the heart of care beguile; 
But I never yet could listen, 
Tho' he whistled all he knew, 
For someone whisper'd all the time, 
Now, colleens dear, could you? 

There's a chapel clad in ivy, 
Oh! as sweet as you could see, 
And there, he says, next Sunday
I must promise his to be; 
In the face of all the people
I will find it hard to do, 
But I'll try my best to please him, 
Oh! girls dear, wouldn't you?