Greenfields Együttes - The Star of the County Down dalszöveg (lyrics)
[Greenfields Együttes - The Star of the County Down dalszöveg lyrics]
Close to Banbridge town in the County Down
One morning last July
Down a boreen green came a sweet cailínn
And she smiled as she passed me by
She looked so neat from her two bare feet
To the sheen of her nut brown hair
Such a coaxing elf had to shake myself
To make sure I was really there
From Bantry Bay up to Derry Quay
And from Galway to Dublin town
No maid I’ve seen like the brown cailínn
That I met in the County Down
As she onward sped sure I scratched my head
And I sat with a feeling rare
And I says I to a passer-by
‘Who’s the maid with the nut brown hair?’
He smiled at me and then says he
‘She’s the gem of the Ireland’s crown
Young Rosie McCann from the banks of the Bann
She’s the star of the County Down’
At the harvest fair she’ll be surely there
So I’ll dress in me Sunday clothes
With me shoes shine bright and
My hat up right
And a smile from my nut brown Rose
No pipe I’ll smoke no horse I’ll yoke
Let me plough with the rust turn brown
‘Till a smiling bride by my own fireside
Sit's the star of the County Down
One morning last July
Down a boreen green came a sweet cailínn
And she smiled as she passed me by
She looked so neat from her two bare feet
To the sheen of her nut brown hair
Such a coaxing elf had to shake myself
To make sure I was really there
From Bantry Bay up to Derry Quay
And from Galway to Dublin town
No maid I’ve seen like the brown cailínn
That I met in the County Down
As she onward sped sure I scratched my head
And I sat with a feeling rare
And I says I to a passer-by
‘Who’s the maid with the nut brown hair?’
He smiled at me and then says he
‘She’s the gem of the Ireland’s crown
Young Rosie McCann from the banks of the Bann
She’s the star of the County Down’
At the harvest fair she’ll be surely there
So I’ll dress in me Sunday clothes
With me shoes shine bright and
My hat up right
And a smile from my nut brown Rose
No pipe I’ll smoke no horse I’ll yoke
Let me plough with the rust turn brown
‘Till a smiling bride by my own fireside
Sit's the star of the County Down