Near to Banbridge town in the County Down on
                           a morning in July, down a boreen green came
                            a sweet colleen and she smiled as she passed
                            me by. Oh, she looked so neat, from her two
                           white feet to the sheen of her nut-brown hair.
                           Such a coaxin' elf, I'd to shake myself, to make
                                     sure I was really there.
                                            Chorus:
                              Oh, from Bantry Bay up to Derry Quay
                           and from Galway to Dublin town, no maid I've
                            seen like the brown colleen that I met in the
                                         County Down.

                           As she onward sped, I scratched my head and
                            I gazed with a feelin' quare. "There, I said,"
                           says I, to a passer-by, "who's the maid with the
                                        nut-brown hair?"
                            Oh, he smiled at me, and with pride says he,
                           "She's the gem of old Ireland's crown. Young
                            Rosie McCann, from the banks of the Bann,
                               she's the star of the County Down."
                                            Chorus.
                           At the harvest fair, she'll be surely there, so I'll
                           dress in my Sunday clothes. And I'll try sheep's
                            eyes and deludtherin lies, on the heart of the
                           nut-brown Rose. No pipe I'll smoke, no horse
                           I'll yoke, tho' my plough with rust turn brown,
                            till a smiling bride by my own fireside sits the
                                    star of the County Down.
                                            Chorus.