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Alone, all alone, by the wave-washed strand
All alone in the crowded hall
The hall it is gay and the waves they are grand
But my heart is not there at all,
It flies far away, by night and by day
To the times and the joys that are gone
But I never can forget the sweet maiden I met
In the valley of Slievenamon.
It was not the grace of her queenly air
Nor the cheeks of the roses glow
Her soft dark eyes or her curly hair,
Nor was it her lily white brow.
‘ Twas the soul of truth and of melting ruth,
And a smile like the summer’s day.
That stole my heart away on that bright summer’s day
In the valley of sweet Slievenamon.
In the festive ball and the wave-washed shore
My restless spirit cries -
‘ My land, oh my land, shall I never see you more,
My country will you never uprise’.
By night and by day I will ever, ever pray,
As darkly my life it rolls on,
To see our flag unrolled and my true love unfold
In the valley near Slievenamon.