Where Lagan stream sings lullaby
There grows a lily fair
The twilight gleam is in her eye
The night is on her hair
And like a lovesick leannsidhe
She hath my heart enthrall
No life I own or liberty
For love is lord of all
And often when the beetle's tone
Has lulled the eve to sleep
I creep down to her sheeling low
And through the door I peep
There on the cricket's singing stone
She piles the bog-wood fire
And sings in love's sweet undertones
A song of heart's desire
