Your hills and dales and flowery vales
That lie near the Moorlough Shore
Your vines that blow by borden's grove
Will I ever see you more

Where the primrose blows
And the violet grows
Where the trout and salmon play

With the line and hook, delight I took
To spend my youthful days
Last night I went to see my love
And to hear what she might say

To see if she'd take pity on me
Lest I might go away
She said, "I love that Irish lad
And he was my only joy
And ever since I saw his face
I've loved that soldier boy."

Perhaps your soldier lad is lost
Sailing over the sea of Maine
Or perhaps he is gone with some other lover
You may never see him again
Well if my Irish lad is lost
He's the one I do adore
And seven years I will wait for him
By the banks of the Moorlough Shore

Farewell to Sinclaire's castle grand
Farewell to the foggy hill
Where the linen waves like bleach-ed silk
And the banching stream runs still
Near there I spent my youthful days
But alas they are not now mine
For cruelty has banished me
Far away from the Moorlough Shore