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The daughter of Megan, so lovely and blooming, |
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I met in Glenavon's gay glittering hall, |
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And high rose my heart, ambition assuming |
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To dance with the damsel, the bloom of the ball. |
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Oh daughter of Megan, look not so alluring |
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On a youth that his hope with thy hand must resign; |
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That now the sad pang of despair is enduring, |
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The spendour thou lov'st can never be mine. |
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Go daughter of Megan, to castles of splendour, |
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Each eye that beholds thee thy presence shall bless, |
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And the delicate mind feel a passion more tender |
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On thy beauties to gaze than another's possess. |
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But daughter of Megan, tomorrow I'm going, |
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On oceans to sail where the rude billows roar; |
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I feel my full heart with affliction o'erflowing, |
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Perhaps I may gaze on thy beauties no more. |
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Oh the daughter of Megan, so lovely and blooming, |
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I met in Glenavon's gay glittering hall, |
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And hight rose my heart, ambition assuming |
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To dance with the damsel, the bloom of the ball. |
