My veins shall feel the rosy tide,
That lingering Hope denies.
Shule, Shule, &c.
My Mary of the curling hair,
The laughing teeth and bashful air,
Our bridal morn is dawning fair,
With blushes in the skies.
Shule! Shule! Shule, agra!
Shule, asucur, agus shule, aroon!
My love! my pearl!