In the county Roscommon we’ve hailstones and rain.
And I was crossing the fields on me way to the plain.
I met a fair cailín, says she, ‘Do you know,
The shortest of shortcuts into old Ballymoe?’

Says I , ‘Cailín óg, who led you astray?
I think I’ll go with you, and show you the way.’
Says she, ‘I won’t go with you, for you I don’t know,
You might kiss me between here and old Ballymoe.’

Says I, ‘Cailín óg, I’ve seldom been kissed.’
She says, ‘Poor lad, sure a lot you have missed.’
‘But I am willing to learn, you know,
We can practice between here and old Ballymoe.’

‘You think I’d go with you, you moron, garrough.
I don’t like your looks, and your smoothering blows.
You are young, you are handsome, but God knows you’re slow.
You look like a dead one in old Ballymoe.’

Says he, ‘I’ve been noted for strength and good looks.
My brain’s not so bad, when I master the books.
And if you are willing, ‘tis married we’ll go,
And forever live happy, in old Ballymoe.’

She started to laugh, till I thought she would choke.
She says, ‘Poor lad, I will tell you a joke:
Get out of my way, for now I must go,
I’ve a husband and six kids in old Ballymoe!’