| Near Banbgidge town in the County Down
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| one evening past July
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| Down a boreen Green came a sweet colleen
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| and she smiled as she passed me by
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| she looked so sweet in her two white feet
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| to the sheen of her hut-brown hair
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| such a coaxing elf, I’d to shake myself
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| to make sure I was standing there
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| From Bantry Bay up to Derry Quay
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| and from Galway to Dublin town
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| No maid I’ve seen like the sweet colleen
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| That I met in the County Down
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| As she onward sped I smy head
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| and I gazed with a feeling rare
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| and I said, Says I, to a passerby
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| «Who's the maid with the nut-brown hair?»
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| He smiled at me, and with pride says he,
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| «That's the gem of Irelands crown
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| She’s young Rosie McCann from the banks of the Bann
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| She’s the star of the county down.»
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| From Bantry bay up to Derry Quay
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| and from Galway to Dublin town
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| No maid I’ve seen like the sweet Colleen
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| that I met in the County Down
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| I’ve travelled a bit, but never was hit
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| Since my riving career began
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| but fair and square I surrendered there
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| To the charms of young Rose McCann.
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| I’d a heart to let and no tenant yet
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| Did I meet with a shawl or gown
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| but in she went and I asked no rent
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| from the star of the County Down
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| From bantry bay on to Derry Quay
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| and from Galway to Dublin Town
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| No maid I’ve seen like the sweet colleen
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| That I met in the County Down
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| At the crossroads fair I’ll be surely there
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| and I’ll dress in my Sunday clothes
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| and I’ll try sheeps eyes, and deludhering lies
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| on the heart of the nut-brown rose
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| No pipe I’ll smoke, no horse I’ll yoke
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| Though with rust my plow turns brown
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| Till a smiling bride by my own fireside
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| Sits the star of the County Down
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| From bantry bay up to Derry Quay
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| and from Galway to Dublin Town
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| No maid i’ve seen like the sweet colleen
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| that I met in the County Down.
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| End |