Mary Hynes

This song has the same sort of wailful charm: a blind
man praising a village beauty whom he cannot see.

Going to Mass by the heavenly mercy,
  The day was rainy, the wind was wild;
I met a lady beside Kiltartan
  And fell in love with the lovely child;
My conversation was smooth and easy,
  And graciously she answered me
“Raftery dear, ’tis yourself that’s welcome,
  So (step beside me to Ballylee.”

This invitation there was no denying,
  I laughed with joy and my poor heart beat;
We had but to walk across a meadow,
  And in her dwelling I took my seat.
There was laid a table with a jug and glasses,
  And that sweet maiden sat down by me—
“Raftery drink and don’t spare the liquor;
  There’s a lengthy cellar in Ballylee."

If I should travel France and England,
  And Spain and Greece and return once more
To study Ireland to the northernocean,
  I would find no morsel the like of her.
If I was married to that youthful beauty
  I’d follow her through the open sea,
And wander coasts and winding roads
  With the shining pearl of Ballylee.

’Tis fine and bright on the mountainside,
  Looking down on Ballylee,
You can walk the woods, picking nuts and berries,
  And hear the birds sing merrily;
  
But where’s the good if you got no tidings
  Of the flowering branch that resides below—
O summer sky, there’s no denying
  It is for you that I ramble so.

My star of beauty, my sun of autumn,
  My golden hair, O my share of life!
Will you come with me this coming Sunday
  And tell the priest you will be my wife?
I’d not grudge you music, nor a feast at evening,
  Nor punch nor wine, if you’d have it be,
And King of Glory, dry up the roadway
  Till I find my posy at Ballylee!


          Anthony Raftery


Source: O'Connor, Frank (tr); Kings, Lords, & Commons: An
Anthology from the Irish; 1962; London; Macmillan & Co; pp.134-135