Lyrics

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.