In a valley far away,
With my _Maire bhan astor_,
Short would be the summer-day,
Ever loving more and more;
Winter days would all grow long,
With the light her heart would pour,
With her kisses and her song,
And her loving _mait go leor_.
Fond is _Maire bhan astor_,
Fair is _Maire bhan astor_,
Sweet as ripple on the shore,
Sings my _Maire bhan astor_.
O! her sire is very proud,
And her mother cold as stone;
But her brother bravely vowed
She should be my bride alone;
For he knew I loved her well,
And he knew she loved me too,
So he sought their pride to quell,
But 'twas all in vain to sue.
True is _Maire bhan astor_,
Tried is _Maire bhan astor_,
Had I wings I'd never soar
From my _Maire bhan astor_.
There are lands where manly toil
Surely reaps the crop it sows,
Glorious woods and teeming soil,
Where the broad Missouri flows:
Through the trees the smoke shall rise,
From our hearth with _mait go leor_,
There shall shine the happy eyes
Of my _Maire bhan astor_.
Mild is _Maire bhan astor_,
Mine is _Maire bhan astor_,
Saints will watch about the door
Of my _Maire bhan astor_.
_Thomas Davis_