Oh Brid Og O'Malley, you have left my heart breaking.
You've sent death pangs of sorrow to pierce my heart sore.
A hundred men craving for your breathtaking beauty.
You're the fairest of maidens in Oriel, for sure.
No spectacle is fairer than the moonbeams on the harbour,
Or the sweet scented blossoms of the sloe on the thorn.
But my love shines much brighter, in looks and in stature,
The honey-lipped beauty who never said wrong.
I'm a handsome young fellow, who is thinking of wedlock,
But my life will be shortened if I don't get my dear.
My love and my darling, prepare now to meet me,
On next Sunday evening on the road to Drum Slieve.
Tis sad and lonely I pass time on Sunday,
My head bowed in sorrow my sighs heavy with woe.
As I gaze upon the byways that my true love walks over,
Now she's wed to another and left me forlorn.