Oh! The oak, and the ash, and the bonny ivy tree,
They flourish at home in my own country.

While sadly I roam I forget my dear home,
Where lads and gay lasses are making the hay;
The merry bells ring, and the birds sweetly sing,
And maidens and meadows are pleasant and gay.

No doubt did I please I could marry at ease;
Where maidens are fair many lovers will come;
But he whom I wed must be north-country bred,
And carry me back to my north-country home.