Letras
As I was going to Dublin on the very first day of the year
A young and pretty maiden on the road before me did appear
'Where d'you hail from, my pretty maiden?' I did ask her so softly
'It's at Tuaifeen that I dwell, Sir, and a fairer place you'll never see'
'Now it's my turn for a question', this pretty maiden did decide
'Are you free to make so bold now, when at home your poor wife does reside?'
'Tis true, my wife is ever ailing, these past three months and longer
And my spirit it is breaking, for I know that she ne'er be wed'
'What would you give', she continued, 'If a different fortune could be thine?
What would you give', she did press me, "for a maiden young and in her prime?
Who could give you money in your pocket, and gold for you to squander
And each night just to enchant you, golden tresses strewn across your bed?'
'Oh, fair maiden, do not tempt me, though there's something in your face, I know
And the toss of your golden hair makes the strangest spark within me grow
But no money have I in my pocket, nor gold, nor land to hold on
And fear to take another to be troubled for my pains again'
But as they were a-walking and talking fondly all the day
He knew this lass would have him if only they could find a way
'Would travel all the roads of Ireland if one sweet kiss you'd give me
And forsaking friends and family just to keep you only unto me'
'Come with me, love, on the morrow. On the high path you and I must meet
And no more will we be parted when we find at last our own retreat
And if friends and family ask about me, and the change that comes about me
I can tell them with a glad heart, it's my first true love that I've found'