I hear the brown-streak'd linnet sing;
the hedge alive with song,
beside a wall where ivies cling,
and I would linger long.
The tranquil mood of Erin's hills
in verdant velvet, clothed,
with distant thoughts my spirit fills,
of love and my betrothed
The little finch, which sitting near
and singing songs of life,
with beauty, minds me of my dear,
whom I will take to wife.
His flash of red, the hue of love,
he shows to woo his mate,
who watches shyly from above
the wrought-iron garden gate.
A rose of red I'll not forget,
to woo my future bride,
for though the wedding date is set,
I'd give her time and tide.
I bid the linnet fond adieu,
and taking rose in hand,
I'm off to wed my lover true,
and place the golden band.