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O!'tis sad in Dooras when the tide is low,
And the green fields burried neath the frost and snow,
And the dark nights dreary with the curlew's cry,
And I thinking, thinking of the days gone by.
O! the happy summers of the olden days,
And the brown boats stealing through the golden haze,
And the cuckoo calling from the woods within,
And my love beside me and the tide full in.
Was I not foolish when I let him go,
To seek his fortune where the west winds blow ?
O! if Heaven brought him to my aching heart,
With my two arms round him we would never part.
O! the happy summers of the olden days,
And the brown boats stealing through the golden haze,
And the cuckoo calling from the woods within,
And my love beside me and the tide full in.
But a dear, dear letter on my fond heart lies,
And its words of promise more than life I prize,
For its whispers, "Stóirín, soon I'll fortune win,
And return to claim you-and the tide full in."
O! the happy summers will come back once more,
And the brown boats stealing to the sunset shore,
And the cuckoo calling from the woods within,
And my love beside me and the tide full in,
And my love beside me and the tide full in.
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