Lletres: The Chieftains. The Star Of The County Down.
Near to Banbridge Town, in the County DownOne morning in July,Down a boreen green came a sweet colleen,And she smiled as she passed me by;Oh, she looked so neat from her two white feetTo the sheen of her nut-brown hair,Sure the coaxing elf, I'd to shake myselfTo make sure I was standing there
CHORUS: Oh, from Bantry Bay up to Derry Quay,And from Galway to Dublin town,No maid I've seen like the brown colleenThat I met in the County Down.
As she onward sped I shook my headAnd I gazed with a feeling quare,And I said, says I, to a passer-by,"Who's the maid with the nut-brown hair?"Oh, he smiled at me, and with pride says he,"That's the gem of Ireland's crown,She's young Rosie McCann from the banks of the Bann,She's the Star of the County Down."
I've travelled a bit, but never was hitSince my roving career began;But fair and square I surrendered thereTo the charms of young Rose McCann.I'd a heart to let and no tenant yetDid I meet with in shawl or gown,But in she went and I asked no rentFrom the Star of the County Down.
At the crossroads fair I'll be surely thereAnd I'll dress in my Sunday clothesAnd I'll try sheep's eyes, and deludhering liesOn the heart of the nut-brown Rose.No pipe I'll smoke, no horse I'll yokeThough with rust my plow turns brown,Till a smiling bride by my own firesideSits the Star of the County Down.
CHORUS: Oh, from Bantry Bay up to Derry Quay,And from Galway to Dublin town,No maid I've seen like the brown colleenThat I met in the County Down.
As she onward sped I shook my headAnd I gazed with a feeling quare,And I said, says I, to a passer-by,"Who's the maid with the nut-brown hair?"Oh, he smiled at me, and with pride says he,"That's the gem of Ireland's crown,She's young Rosie McCann from the banks of the Bann,She's the Star of the County Down."
I've travelled a bit, but never was hitSince my roving career began;But fair and square I surrendered thereTo the charms of young Rose McCann.I'd a heart to let and no tenant yetDid I meet with in shawl or gown,But in she went and I asked no rentFrom the Star of the County Down.
At the crossroads fair I'll be surely thereAnd I'll dress in my Sunday clothesAnd I'll try sheep's eyes, and deludhering liesOn the heart of the nut-brown Rose.No pipe I'll smoke, no horse I'll yokeThough with rust my plow turns brown,Till a smiling bride by my own firesideSits the Star of the County Down.
The Chieftains