Killeevy, O Killeevy!
The passing breeze, as it wailed before,
And streams of mournful music bore,
By the bonnie green woods of Killeevy.
"If I to thy youthful heart am dear,
Killeevy, O Killeevy!
One month from hence thou wilt meet me here
Where lay thy bridal, Eva's bier,"
By the bonnie green woods of Killeevy.
He pressed her lips as the words were spoken;