Alone, all alone,
by the wave washed strand, all alone in a crowded hall.
The hall it is gay but the waves they
are grand but my love isn't here at all.
It flies far away by night and by day
to the times and the joys that are gone.
But I never will forget the sweet maiden
I've met in the valley near Slievenamon.
It was not the grace of her queenly
air, nor her cheeks of the roses glow.
Her soft bright eyes or her long
flowing hair, nor was it her lily white brow.
Twas the soul of truth and melting
youth and a smile on a Summer's dawn.
That stole my heart away one fine
summer's day in the valley near Slievenamon.
In the festive hall by the wave washed
strand, ever my restless spirit flies.
My love oh my love I will ne'er see
your more and my land I will ne'er uprise.
By night and by day, I'll ever ever pray as only my life goes on.
To see our flag unfurl and my true love
to enfold in the valley near Slievenamon.