Where Lagan stream sings lullaby, There blows a lily fair. The twilight gleam is in her eye, The night is on her hair. And like a lovesick lenanshee, She has my heart in thrall, Nor life I own nor liberty, For love is lord of all.
And often when the beetle's horn Hath lulled the eve to sleep, I steal unto her shieling lorn And through the dooring peep. There by the cricket's singing stone She spare the bogwood fire And sings in sad, sweet undertone The song of heart's desire.
traditional Irish melody; lyrics by Joseph McCahill
