| My Donal Og, I love you, and you sail o’er the water |
| Take me with you to be your partner |
| 'Tis at fair and market you’ll be well looked-after |
| And you can sleep with the Greek king’s daughter |
| First time I saw you 'twas a Sunday evening |
| 'Twas at the Easter as I was kneeling |
| 'Twas on Christ’s passion that I was reading |
| But my mind, it was on you, and my own heart bleeding |
| My Donal Og, you’ll not find me lazy |
| Not like some high-born expensive lady |
| I’ll do your milking and I’ll nurse your baby |
| If you were set upon I would back you bravely |
| For you said you would meet me, but you were lying |
| Behind the sheepfold as the day was dying |
| I whistled first, then I started hailing |
| And all that I heard was the young lambs' wailing |
| And you said you would give me, but you talk lightly |
| Fish-skin gloves that would fit me tightly |
| Bird-skin shoes when I go out walking |
| A silken dress that would set Ireland talking |
| My mother, she said we should not be meeting |
| That I should pass you by and not give you greeting |
| 'Twas a good time surely she chose for cheating |
| With the stable bare and the horse retreating |
| Black as the sloe is the heart inside me |
| Black as the coal with the grief that drives me |
| Black as the boot print on shining hallway |
| 'Twas you that blackened it ever and always |
| For you took what’s before me and what’s behind me |
| You took east and west when you would not mind me |
| Sun, moon and stars from me you have taken |
| And Christ likewise if I’m not mistaken |
| My Donal Og, when you sail o’er the water |