A derry, derry, derry, derry down,
Heigh down a derry!
What though I keep my father’s sheep—
A thing that must be done-a,
A garland of the fairest flowers
Shall shroud me from the sun-a;
And when I see them feeding be,
Where grass and flowers spring-a,
Close by a crystal fountain side
I sit me down and sing-a.