In the Bainbridge town in the County Down,
one morning last July.
From a boreen green came a sweet colleen,
and she smiled as she passed me by.
She looked so sweet from her two bare feet,
to the sheen of her nut-brown hair.
Such a coaxing elf, sure I shook myself,
to see if I was really there.

From Bantry Bay up to Derry Quay,
and from Galway to Dublin town.
No maid I've seen like the fair colleen,
that I met in the County Down.

As she onward sped, sure I scratched my head,
and I looked with a feeling rare.
And I said, said I, to a passer-by,
who's the maid with the nut-brown hair?
He smiled at me and he said, said he,
that's the gem of Ireland's crown.
Yound Rosie McCann, from the banks of the Bann,
she's the star of the County Down.

From Bantry Bay up to Derry Quay,
and from Galway to Dublin town.
No maid I've seen like the brown colleen,
that I met in the County Down.

At the Harvest Fair, surely she'll be there,
and I dress in my Sunday clothes.
With my shoes shone bright and my hat cocked right,
for a smile from my nut-brown rose.
No pipe I'll smoke, no horse I'll yoke,
til my plow turns a rust-colored brown.
Til a smiling bride, by my own fireside,
sits the star of the County Down.

From Bantry Bay up to Derry Quay,
and from Galway to Dublin town.
No maid I've seen like the fair colleen,
that I met in the County Down.

From Bantry Bay up to Derry Quay,
and from Galway to Dublin town.
No maid I've seen like the brown colleen,
that I met in the County Down.