Idioma Origen:
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 lovesick lenanshee
She hath my heart in thrall
No life have I, no liberty,
For love is lord of all
And sometimes when the beetle's horn
Has lulled the eve to sleep,
I steal onto her shieling lorn,
And through the dooring peep,
There on the crickets' singing-stone
She spares the bogwood fire,
And hums in sad, sweet undertone,
The song of heart's desire
Her welcome like her love for me
Is from her heart within
Her warm kiss is felicity
That knows no taint of sin.
Idioma Destino:
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 lovesick lenanshee
She hath my heart in thrall
No life have I, no liberty,
For love is lord of all
And sometimes when the beetle's horn
Has lulled the eve to sleep,
I steal onto her shieling lorn,
And through the dooring peep,
There on the crickets' singing-stone
She spares the bogwood fire,
And hums in sad, sweet undertone,
The song of heart's desire
Her welcome like her love for me
Is from her heart within
Her warm kiss is felicity
That knows no taint of sin.