At the foot of the mountain stands a high, high tree
Its branches reach up to the sky
And a red-crested bird leaves her nest in the lee
And from the tallest branch she cries...
"Oh, wild wind, won't you blow?
And carry me to my love,
I know not where to go;
I'll spread my wings,
On your windy back I'll ride.
Oh, old wise wind won't you blow?"
On the banks by the bay where the mossy mussels lay
And the castle on the hill meets the sky,
There a red-haired girl fetches dinner from the sea
And walking out the jetty rocks, she cries...
On the road by the wood, there a simple cottage lies
Of thatch and painted windows, inviting me to bide
And the ould widow man within it with his pipe and twinkling eye
While stoking up the embers there, he cries...
Oh, the cattle with their shepherd and the fishes in the deep
They have no cause for sorrow, no love will trouble thee
If I could be a blackbird in the tallest oaken tree
There from it's tallest branch, I'd cry...