Thomas L. Moore

As I walk the road from Killeshandra, weary I sit down.
For it's twelve long miles around the lake to get to Cavan Town.
Lough Oughter, on the road I go, once seemed beyond compare.
Now I curse the time it takes to reach my Cavan girl so fair.

At the Cavan cross, each Sunday morning, there she can be found.
She seems to have the eye of every boy in Cavan town.
If my luck will hold, I'll have the golden summer of her smile,
And to break the hearts of the Cavan men, she'll talk to me awhile.

Now autumn shades are on the leaves, the trees will soon be bare.
Each red-gold leaf around me seems the colour of her hair.
My gaze retreats to find my feet, but once again I sigh,
For the broken pools of sky remind, the colour of her eye.

So next sunday evening finds me homeward, Killeshandra bound
To work the week till I return to court in Cavan town.
When asked if she would be my wife, well at least she'd not said, "No",
So next sunday morning, rouse meself, and back to her I'll go.

Repeat First Verse