Oh, the lonely road, the road to Cabinteely!
'Tis there I see a little ghost, and gaily singeth she.
She plucks the swaying cowslip nor stays for all my calling,
But flies at my pursuing, who once did run to me.
She once did run to me.
I follow, ever eager, the dancing shade elusive,
The phantom feet that leave me so lone and far behind.
Then comes her merry laughter, like elfin music chiming,
She cares not for my sorrow, she once to grief so kind,
She was to tears so kind.
Her kiss falls swift and tender on breaking bud and blossom,
Her flitting fingers touch them, fair as white butterflies,
Her slender arm enfolds them with soft and sweet embraces,
Remembered shy caresses she now to me denies,
She all to me denies.
On the haunted road, the road to Cabinteely,
'Tis there a little dancing ghost her merry way doth take.
She sings no song of sorrow, nor knows no pain of weeping.
I would not wish her home again, though my lone heart should break,
Though my poor heart should break.
