The Fairy Wort

Pluck will I the fairy wort,
With expectation from the fairy bower,
To overcome every oppression,
As long as it be fairy wort.
Fairy wort, fairy wort.
I envy the one who has thee,
There is nothing the sun encircles.
But is to her a sure victory.
Pluck will I mine honoured plant
Plucked by the great Mary, helpful Mother of the people,
To cast off me every tale of scandal and flippancy.
Ill-life, ill-love, ill-luck,
Hatred, falsity, fraud and vexation,
Till I go in the cold grave beneath the sod.