[Verse 1]
'Who is that out with the edge of his voice
Beating on my closed door?'
"I am Ned of the hill, drowned, cold and wet
From crossing mountains and valleys.'
'My young boy, my love, what should I do with thee
If I could dress you in my clothes
The heavy snow would shield us both
From being discovered and extinguished!'

[Verse 2]
Oh, associations and trove, since I will turn
Sub choilltí by depression of the dew
As I get the bee
Or the numbers of nests
The deer is the puck at búireach
The héiníní cliff on ghéagíní playing
And the chuaichín on because the green yew
Nеver ever shall not diе in laughter
Oh, along the fragrant wood