Where Lagan streams sing lullabies
There blows a lily fair
The twilight gleam is in her eye
The night is on her hair
And, like a love sick leannán sí
She hath my heart in thrall
No life have I, no liberty
For love is lord of all

And often when the beetle's horn
Has lulled the eve to sleep
I steal into her shieling lorn
And through the doorway creep
There on the crickets' singing-stone
She makes the bogwood fire
And sings in sweet and undertone
The song of heart's desire