Song | Star Of The County Down |
Artist | The High Kings |
Album | Memory Lane |
Download | Image LRC TXT |
Near Banbridge town, in the County Down | |
One evening last July | |
Down a bóithrín green came a sweet cailín | |
And she smiled as she passed me by | |
She looked so neat in her two bare feet | |
To the sheen of her nut-brown hair | |
Such a coaxing elf, I'd to shake myself | |
To make sure I was standing there | |
(Chorus) | |
From Bantry Bay down to Derry Quay | |
From Galway to Dublin town | |
No maid I've seen like the fair cailín | |
That I met in the County Down | |
As she onward sped I shook me head | |
And I gazed with a feeling queer | |
And I said, says I, to a passerby | |
"Who's your one with the nut-brown hair?" | |
He smiled at me, and with pride says he: | |
"She's the gem of old Ireland's crown | |
Young Rosie McCann from the banks of the Bann | |
And the star of the County Down" | |
(Chorus) | |
She'd a soft brown eye and a look so sly | |
And a smile like the rose in June | |
And you held each note from her auburn throat | |
As she lilted lamenting tunes | |
At the pattern dance you'd be in trance | |
As she skipped through a jig or reel | |
When her eyes, she'd roll, as she'd lift your soul | |
And your heart, she would likely steal | |
(Chorus) | |
At the harvest fair she'll be surely there | |
And I'll dress my Sunday clothes | |
With my hat cocked right and my shoes shone bright | |
For a smile from the nut-brown Rose | |
No horse I'll yoke, or pipe I smoke | |
'Til the rust in my plough turn brown | |
And a smiling bride by my own fireside | |
Sits the star of the County Down | |
(Chorus) | |
She'd a soft brown eye and a look so sly | |
And a smile like the rose in June | |
And you held each note from her auburn throat | |
As she lilted lamenting tunes | |
At the pattern dance you'd be in trance | |
As she skipped through a jig or reel | |
When her eyes she'd roll, as she'd lift your soul | |
And your heart, she would likely steal | |
(Chorus) | |
Near Banbridge town, in the County Down | |
One evening last July | |
Down a bóithrín green came a sweet cailín | |
And she smiled as she passed me by | |
She looked so neat in her two bare feet | |
To the sheen of her nut-brown hair | |
Such a coaxing elf, I'd to shake myself | |
To make sure I was standing there | |
(Chorus X3) |
Near Banbridge town, in the County Down | |
One evening last July | |
Down a bo ithri n green came a sweet caili n | |
And she smiled as she passed me by | |
She looked so neat in her two bare feet | |
To the sheen of her nutbrown hair | |
Such a coaxing elf, I' d to shake myself | |
To make sure I was standing there | |
Chorus | |
From Bantry Bay down to Derry Quay | |
From Galway to Dublin town | |
No maid I' ve seen like the fair caili n | |
That I met in the County Down | |
As she onward sped I shook me head | |
And I gazed with a feeling queer | |
And I said, says I, to a passerby | |
" Who' s your one with the nutbrown hair?" | |
He smiled at me, and with pride says he: | |
" She' s the gem of old Ireland' s crown | |
Young Rosie McCann from the banks of the Bann | |
And the star of the County Down" | |
Chorus | |
She' d a soft brown eye and a look so sly | |
And a smile like the rose in June | |
And you held each note from her auburn throat | |
As she lilted lamenting tunes | |
At the pattern dance you' d be in trance | |
As she skipped through a jig or reel | |
When her eyes, she' d roll, as she' d lift your soul | |
And your heart, she would likely steal | |
Chorus | |
At the harvest fair she' ll be surely there | |
And I' ll dress my Sunday clothes | |
With my hat cocked right and my shoes shone bright | |
For a smile from the nutbrown Rose | |
No horse I' ll yoke, or pipe I smoke | |
' Til the rust in my plough turn brown | |
And a smiling bride by my own fireside | |
Sits the star of the County Down | |
Chorus | |
She' d a soft brown eye and a look so sly | |
And a smile like the rose in June | |
And you held each note from her auburn throat | |
As she lilted lamenting tunes | |
At the pattern dance you' d be in trance | |
As she skipped through a jig or reel | |
When her eyes she' d roll, as she' d lift your soul | |
And your heart, she would likely steal | |
Chorus | |
Near Banbridge town, in the County Down | |
One evening last July | |
Down a bo ithri n green came a sweet caili n | |
And she smiled as she passed me by | |
She looked so neat in her two bare feet | |
To the sheen of her nutbrown hair | |
Such a coaxing elf, I' d to shake myself | |
To make sure I was standing there | |
Chorus X3 |
Near Banbridge town, in the County Down | |
One evening last July | |
Down a bó ithrí n green came a sweet cailí n | |
And she smiled as she passed me by | |
She looked so neat in her two bare feet | |
To the sheen of her nutbrown hair | |
Such a coaxing elf, I' d to shake myself | |
To make sure I was standing there | |
Chorus | |
From Bantry Bay down to Derry Quay | |
From Galway to Dublin town | |
No maid I' ve seen like the fair cailí n | |
That I met in the County Down | |
As she onward sped I shook me head | |
And I gazed with a feeling queer | |
And I said, says I, to a passerby | |
" Who' s your one with the nutbrown hair?" | |
He smiled at me, and with pride says he: | |
" She' s the gem of old Ireland' s crown | |
Young Rosie McCann from the banks of the Bann | |
And the star of the County Down" | |
Chorus | |
She' d a soft brown eye and a look so sly | |
And a smile like the rose in June | |
And you held each note from her auburn throat | |
As she lilted lamenting tunes | |
At the pattern dance you' d be in trance | |
As she skipped through a jig or reel | |
When her eyes, she' d roll, as she' d lift your soul | |
And your heart, she would likely steal | |
Chorus | |
At the harvest fair she' ll be surely there | |
And I' ll dress my Sunday clothes | |
With my hat cocked right and my shoes shone bright | |
For a smile from the nutbrown Rose | |
No horse I' ll yoke, or pipe I smoke | |
' Til the rust in my plough turn brown | |
And a smiling bride by my own fireside | |
Sits the star of the County Down | |
Chorus | |
She' d a soft brown eye and a look so sly | |
And a smile like the rose in June | |
And you held each note from her auburn throat | |
As she lilted lamenting tunes | |
At the pattern dance you' d be in trance | |
As she skipped through a jig or reel | |
When her eyes she' d roll, as she' d lift your soul | |
And your heart, she would likely steal | |
Chorus | |
Near Banbridge town, in the County Down | |
One evening last July | |
Down a bó ithrí n green came a sweet cailí n | |
And she smiled as she passed me by | |
She looked so neat in her two bare feet | |
To the sheen of her nutbrown hair | |
Such a coaxing elf, I' d to shake myself | |
To make sure I was standing there | |
Chorus X3 |