Henrik Norbeck's ABC Tunes

Display tune: Star of the County Down

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T:Star of the County Down
H:Words by Cathal McGarvey (1866-1927), Ramelton, County Donegal.
D:The High Kings
(B,/D/) | EE ED/E/ | GG A(G/A/) | B(A/G/) EE | D3
B,/D/ | EE ED/E/ | GG AG/A/ | BA/G/ E(E/D/) | E3 ||
B | dB BA/G/ | AA AG/A/ | BA/G/ EE | D3
B,/D/ | EE ED/E/ | GG AG/A/ | BA/G/ ED | E3 ||
B | dB BA/G/ | AA AG/A/ | BA/G/ EE | D3
B,/D/ | EE ED/E/ | GG AG/A/ | BA/G/ ED | E3 ||
W:Near Banbridge Town, in the County Down
W:one morning last July,
W:from a boreen green came a sweet colleen,
W:and she smiled as she passed me by.
W:She looked so neat from her two bare feet
W:to the sheen of her nut-brown hair,
W:Such a coaxing elf, sure I shook myself
W:for to see I was really there.
W:From Bantry Bay up to Derry Quay,
W:and from Galway to Dublin town,
W:no maid I've seen like the brown colleen
W:that I met in the County Down.
W:As she onward sped sure I shook my head
W:and I looked with a feeling rare,
W:and I said, says I, to a passer-by,
W:"Who's the maid with the nut-brown hair?"
W:He smiled at me, and he said, says he,
W:"That's the gem of Ireland's crown,
W:young Rosie McCann from the banks of the Bann,
W:she's the Star of the County Down."
W:She'd a soft brown eye and a look so sly
W:and a smile like the rose in June
W:And you hung on each note from her lily-white throat,
W:as she lilted an Irish tune.
W:At the pattern dance you were held in trance
W:as she skipped through a jig or reel
W:When her eyes she'd roll, she would lift your soul
W:And your heart she would likely steal
W:I've travelled a bit, but I ne'er was hit
W:since my roving career began.
W:But fair and square I surrendered there
W:To the charms of young Rose McCann.
W:I'd a heart to let and no tenant yet
W:Did I meet with in shawl or gown,
W:But in she went and I asked no rent
W:From the Star of the County Down.
W:At the harvest fair she'll be surely there
W:and I'll dress in my Sunday clothes
W:with my hat cocked right, and my shoes shone bright,
W:for a smile from my nut-brown Rose.
W:No pipe I'll smoke, no horse I'll yoke
W:till my plow it is rust coloured brown,
W:till my smiling bride by my own fireside
W:sits the Star of the County Down.

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