Kathleen

I
Fair the bogs and hills and dales,
Fair Killarney's mossy vales,
Ochone! Ochone!
But none looks so fair, I ween,
As my dimpled sweet Kathleen,
Ochone! Ochone!

II
Ah, the wraithies sing all night
Of her eyes a shinin' bright,
Ochone! Ochone!
Mary Mother, rest her soul,
Kathleen's purer than the gold,
Ochone! Ochone!

III
Let the droonin' bagpipes play,
Tunes on this, my weddin' day,
Ochone! Ochone!
We are one this very e'en
You and I, my dear Kathleen,
Ochone! Ochone!