Where Lagan stream sings lullaby
There blows a lily fair
The twilight gleam is in her eye
The night is on her hair
And like a love-sick lennan-shee
She has my heart in thrall
Nor life I owe, nor liberty
For love is lord of all
And often when the beetle's horn
Hath lulled the eve to sleep
I steal unto her shieling lorn
And through the dooring peep
There on the cricket's singing stone
She spares the bogwood fire
And hums in sad sweet undertone
The songs of heart's desire
Nor life I owe, nor liberty
For love is lord of all
For love is lord of all
