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Over the mountains and down in the glen,
To a little thatched cot in the valley;
Where the thrush and the linnet sing their ditty and their song,
And my love's leaning over the half-door.
Red is the rose that in yonder garden grows,
Fair is the lily of the valley;
Clear are the waters that flow in yonder stream,
But my love is fairer than any.
Down by the seashore on a cool summer's eve,
With the moon rising over the heather;
The moon it shown fair on her head of golden hair,
And she vowed she'd be my love forever.
Red is the rose that in yonder garden grows,
Fair is the lily of the valley;
Clear are the waters that flow in yonder stream,
But my love is fairer than any.
It is not for the loss of my own sister Kate,
It is not for the loss of my mother;
It is all for the loss of my bonnie blue-eyed lass,
That I'm leaving my homeland forever.
Red is the rose that in yonder garden grows,
Fair is the lily of the valley;
Clear are the waters that flow in yonder stream,
But my love is fairer than any.
But my love is fairer than any.
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