It was on a fine summer morning,
The birds sweetly tun’d on each bough,
And as I walk’d out for my pleasure
I saw a maid milking her cow;
Her voice so enchanting, melodious,
Left me quite unable to go,
My heart it was loaded with sorrow
For Colleen dhas cruthen namoe.

Then to her I made my advances;
“Good morrow, most beautiful maid,
Your beauty my heart so entrances!”
“Pray sir, do not banter,” she said;
“I’m not such a rare precious jewel,
That I should enamour you so,
I am but a poor little milk-girl,”
Says Colleen dhas cruthen namoe.

The Indies afford no such jewels,
So bright and transparently clear;
Ah! do not add flame to my fuel!
Consent by to love me, my dear.
Ah! had I the lamp of Aladdin,
Or the wealth of the African shore,
I would rather be poor in a cottage
With Colleen dhas cruthen namoe.