Lyric Star Of The County Down
In Banbridge 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 fronn her two bare feet
To the sheen of her nut brown hair.
Such a coaxing elf, sure I shook myself
For to see I was really there.
Chorus:
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.
As she onward sped, sure I scratched my head,
And I looked with a feelin rare,
And I say s, say s I, to a passer-by,
"Whose the maid with the nut brown hair"?
He smiled at me and he says s, say s he,
"That s the gem of Ireland s crown.
It s Rosie McCann from the banks of the Bann,
She s the star of the County Down".
Chorus:
From Bantry Bay up to Derry Ouay 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 she ll be surely there
And I ll 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
Till my plough turns rust coloured brown.
Till a smiling bride, by my own fireside
Sits the star of the County Down.
Chorus / Repeat
One morning last July,
From a boreen green came a sweet colleen
And she smiled as she passed me by.
She looked so sweet fronn her two bare feet
To the sheen of her nut brown hair.
Such a coaxing elf, sure I shook myself
For to see I was really there.
Chorus:
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.
As she onward sped, sure I scratched my head,
And I looked with a feelin rare,
And I say s, say s I, to a passer-by,
"Whose the maid with the nut brown hair"?
He smiled at me and he says s, say s he,
"That s the gem of Ireland s crown.
It s Rosie McCann from the banks of the Bann,
She s the star of the County Down".
Chorus:
From Bantry Bay up to Derry Ouay 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 she ll be surely there
And I ll 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
Till my plough turns rust coloured brown.
Till a smiling bride, by my own fireside
Sits the star of the County Down.
Chorus / Repeat