The Star of the County Down
V.1 Near Banbridge town, in the county down,
One morning last July,
Down a boreen green, came a sweet colleen,
& she smiled as she passed me by,
Br.1 She looked so neat from her two white feet,
To the sheen of her nut-brown hair,
-Such a coaxing elf, sure, I shook myself,
Just to see I was really there!
Ch. From Bantry bay, up to Derry quay,
From Galway to Dublin town,
No maid I've seen like the sweet colleen,
That I met in the County Down.
V.2 As she onward sped, sure I scratched my head,
& I looked with a feeling rare,
& I says, says I, to a passer-by,
Who's the maid with the nut-brown hair?
Br.2 He smiled at me, & he says, says he
She's the gem in Ireland's crown,
Young Rosie McCann from banks of the Bann,
She's the star of the County Down!
Ch.> From Bantry bay, etc.
V.3 At the harvest fair, she'll surely be there,
So I'll dress in my Sunday clothes,
& I'll try sheep's eyes & deludherin' lies,
On the heart of my nut-brown Rose,
Br.3 No pipe I'll smoke, no horse I'll yoke,
Though my plough with rust turns brown,
Til a smilin' bride by my own fireside,
Sits the star of the County Down.
Ch.(x4)> from Bantry bay, etc.
One morning last July,
Down a boreen green, came a sweet colleen,
& she smiled as she passed me by,
Br.1 She looked so neat from her two white feet,
To the sheen of her nut-brown hair,
-Such a coaxing elf, sure, I shook myself,
Just to see I was really there!
Ch. From Bantry bay, up to Derry quay,
From Galway to Dublin town,
No maid I've seen like the sweet colleen,
That I met in the County Down.
V.2 As she onward sped, sure I scratched my head,
& I looked with a feeling rare,
& I says, says I, to a passer-by,
Who's the maid with the nut-brown hair?
Br.2 He smiled at me, & he says, says he
She's the gem in Ireland's crown,
Young Rosie McCann from banks of the Bann,
She's the star of the County Down!
Ch.> From Bantry bay, etc.
V.3 At the harvest fair, she'll surely be there,
So I'll dress in my Sunday clothes,
& I'll try sheep's eyes & deludherin' lies,
On the heart of my nut-brown Rose,
Br.3 No pipe I'll smoke, no horse I'll yoke,
Though my plough with rust turns brown,
Til a smilin' bride by my own fireside,
Sits the star of the County Down.
Ch.(x4)> from Bantry bay, etc.
Credits
Writer(s): Herbert Hughes
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
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