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| OH, WERE I at the moss-house where the birds do increase, | |
| At the foot of Mount Leinster or some silent place | |
| Near the streams of Bunclody where all pleasures do meet, | |
| And all I’d require is one kiss from you, sweet. | |
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| If I was in Bunclody I would think myself at home, | 5 |
| ’Tis there I would have a sweetheart, but here I have none. | |
| Drinking strong liquor in the height of my cheer— | |
| Here’s a health to Bunclody and the lass I love dear. | |
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| The cuckoo is a pretty bird, it sings as it flies, | |
| It brings us good tidings and tells us no lies, | 10 |
| It sucks the young bird’s eggs to make its voice clear, | |
| And it never cries cuckoo till the summer is near. | |
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| If I was a clerk and could write a good hand, | |
| I would write to my true love that she might understand, | |
| I am a young fellow that is wounded in love, | 15 |
| That lived by Bunclody, but now must remove. | |
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| If I was a lark and had wings, I then could fly, | |
| I would go to yon arbour where my love she doth lie, | |
| I’d proceed to yon arbour where my love she does lie, | |
| And on her fond bosom contented I would die. | 20 |
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| The reason my love slights me, as you may understand, | |
| Because she has a freehold, and I have no land, | |
| She has a great store of riches and a large sum of gold, | |
| And everything fitting a house to uphold. | |
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| So, adieu, my dear father, adieu, my dear mother, | 25 |
| Farewell to my sister, farewell to my brother; | |
| I’m going to America, my fortune for to try; | |
| When I think upon Bunclody, I’m ready for to die! | |
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