You were down in Cork south of Dublin
Lovely green eyes surrounded by your pale porcelain skin
Yes a beautiful flower I picked you out of a field that was covered in dew
Yes you were covered, covered in dew a graceful pretty bee orchid
That’s never going to sting
The word is the word is kind and loving

Curves like the rolling hills of the moor
You are oh so very wealthy and in beauty far from poor
Sweet and so young a fiery red head in the weave of this land a golden thread
Yes in the weave a golden thread more talents than the strings on a harp
Your mind not blunt but very sharp
The word is the word is kind and loving