Oh, I am just a rover
Among the roving men
Who loves to watch the sunlight
Upon the flowering fen;
Who fain would feel the heather
Dew-soft beneath his tread
When morning parts the cloud-wrack
Above Benbulbin's head;
Who likes to lie and linger
Until the rising moon
Shows all her midnight glories
High o'er the Lough of Cloon;
Whose feet were shaped to follow
The road's eternal lure
From stormy Stockarudden
To sunny Knockanure!
But since there‘ s Sheilah calling,
(‘ T is love that‘ s in her call! )
Faith, I am just a rover
Who‘ ll rove no more at all!