From the Irish

I’d bring you these for dowry
A field from heather free,
White sheep upon the mountain,
And calves that follow me.

I saw you by the well-side
Upon Saint Finnian's Day;
I thought you'd come and ask for me
But you kept far away.

Oh, if you ask not for me,
But leave me here instead,
The petticoat in dye-pot here
Will never fast its red

For me upon the well-slope
To wear on Finnian's Day
My dress will be the sheet bleached there,
My place, below the clay!