I‘m a boy from Ireland and I could charm a nice young girl
I would not ask for her wealth as I am rich enough myself
I own a good part of Cork, two sides of the glen in Tyrone
And not to repeat myself I‘m the heir of County Mayo
I will go tomorrow to make ale in the wood
Without a cot without a boat without a pinch of gruel with me
But leaves of the branches as bedclothes over my head
And think well done for you as you watch me from over there
A cowherd, my pet, I‘ve never been accustomed to be
Instead of playing and drinking with the nice young women
on the mountain side
If I lost my riches I probably didn‘t lose my senses
And your kiss is no more to me now than a shoe worn for a year