“She’s the darlin’ of the parish, she’s the pride of
Inniskillen;
‘Twould make your heart lep up to see her trippin’
down the glen;
There’s not a lad of life and fame that wouldn’t take
her shillin’
And inlist inside her service-did ye hear her laughin’
then?
Did ye see her with her hand in mine the day that
Clancy married?
Ah, darlin’, how we footed it-the grass it was so
green!
And when the neighbours wandered home, I was the
guest that tarried,
An hour plucked from Paradise--come back to me,
Rosleen!
Across the seas, beyand the hills, by lovely Inniskillen,
The rigiment come marchin’--I hear the call once
more
Shure, a woman’s but a woman--so I took the Sergeant’s
shillin’,
For the pride o’ me was hurted--shall I never see
her more?
She turned her face away from me, and black as night
the land became;
Her eyes were jewels of the sky, the finest iver seen;
She left me for another lad, he was a lad of life and
fame,
And the heart of me was hurted--but there’s none
that’s like Rosleen!”