The Corrs

Your hills and dales and flowery vales
That lie near the Moorlough Shore
Your winds that blow by borden's grove
Will I ever see you more
Where the primrose blows
And the violet grows
Where the trout and salmon play
With my line and hook delight I took
To spend my youthful days
Last night I went to see my love
To hear what she might say
To see if she'd take pity on me
Lest I might go away