One morning last July Down a boreen green came a sweet coleen And she smiled as she passed me by She looked so sweet from her two bare feet To the sheen of her nut-brown hair Such a coaxing elf, sure I shook myself For to see I was really there
From Bantry Bay up to Derry Quay, And from Galway to Dublin town No maid I’ve seen like the brown coleen That I met in the county Down
As she onward sped, sure I scratched my head And I looked with a feeling rare And I says, says I, to a passer-by Who‘s the maid with the nut-brown hair? He smiled at me and then says he That‘s the gem of the Irelands crown. Young Rosie McCann from the Banks of the Bann She’s the sta rof the county Down
At the harvest fair she’ll be surely there, So I dress in my Sunday clothes With my shoes shone bright and my hat cocked right For a smile from my nut-brown Rose No pipe I’ll smoke, no horse I‘ll yoke, Till my plough is a rust-coloured brown Till a smiling bride by my own fireside, Sits the star of the county Down