(Prize Song in ‘Yn Chruinnaght’)
Up on Barrule there lived a man,
A man grey-haired and old;
He had a lovely daughter Ann,
Of loveliness ne’er told.
And they were happy as the day,
Each other’s heart to please,
But came the time joy went away,
And love began to freeze.
Another heart her love besought,
Another’s eyes her smile;
But fickle love is dearly bought,
He only did beguile.
The hut is barren as a cave,
Its occupants are fled,
An all is silent as the grave,
The happiness is dead.
(set to music)