Anno Domini nostri sancti Jesu Christi
Nine hundred and ninetynine pound sterling in the black bowels of the bank of Ulster
Braw pennies, my girli girleen, and |1bright gold1| pounds, by God, 'll |1deck prank1| thee finely
And no damn lout'll come courting thee or by the Holy Ghost there'll be murder
O come all ye sweet nymphs of Dingle beach to |1see cheer1| Brinabride |1a riding from Sybil ariding1|
In her curragh of shells of daughter-of-pearl and her silverymoonblue mantle round her
|1Bride Crown1| of the |1brine waters, brine on her brow,1| |1she is and will be she'll dance them a jilting jig |ablank early and jilt them fairly,a|1|
Yerra, why would she bride with |1sir1| Sloomysides of the or Mrs Cornwallis West Corn the gogram grey barnacle gander?
You'll not be lonesome, Lizzy my love, when your yank is |1gone the worst1| for |1a his swank & his steel1| soldiering
Nor |1shake wake1| in winter, widow machree, for you'll have my old |1|aDundalk Balbriggana|1| surtout
Wisha, won't you agree |1now1| to take me |1in for nothing at all1| as your |1old own1| nursetender
|1Ten million A power of1| |1men fine fellows1| died |1ten in a ditch. game right enough.1| |1but1| Who lives for you?
I, Dougall, |1in on1| Aran saw Black Iron night