Mo Buachailin Ban

Mo buachailin ban
Is up with the dawn,
And over the mountain, through forest and lawn ;
By green bank and slip,
Where golden flowers dip,
The dew of the morning is still on his lip.

And down by the castle, right over the hill,
Mo buachailin works, the brown lands to till ;
But still at the dawn we meet at the slip,
Where white lilies float and golden flowers dip.

Through field as he goes,
He pulls the wild rose,
And blossoms of blue from the green rushy bawn ;
But over the rose
His damask cheek glows,
And the blue eye is bright of my buachailin ban.

He talks not like men who think woman can't know
When liberty rises or freedom is low ;
And often our thoughts for old Ireland are high,
Like the sun on the mountain when painting the sky.

My buachailin ban
Is clear as the dawn,
No shadow of falsehood to cloud his blue eye ;
The plans of Untruth
'Tis he can confute,
And Tyranny shrinks when he stands to defy.

And sometimes his blue eyes will dream in the dawn ;
And fitful and wild is mo buachailin ban ;
But as Infancy kind, he is dear to my mind,
And the Shield of my life is mo buachailin ban !

Mo buachailin ban.
The dew on the lip of mo buachailin ban
Is gossamer gold, strung with beads of the dawn ;
What hard heart shall dare to brush them away ?
No hard heart but mine, at the dawning of day,
Mo buachailin ban !