Her hair was dark and glossy as the feather of a crow
And the mirror to her soul her eyes blue as the ripened sloe
And she lived in that green countryside where to manhood I did grow
Where the Araglen's bright waters on towards the Blackwater flow.
Just to see her very equal one might travel many a mile
She was young and she looked lovely and she had a marvellous smile
Free of guile and unconceited and one I remember still
Few if any of such beauty ever walked up Cullen hill.
She was the fairest in the village five foot six or seven tall
And she was coming to her prime then only nineteen I recall
But the wanderlust was in her and from Cullen she did go
To live distant from Duhallow where the Araglen waters flow.
In my memory she's still young a teenager she remain
And I fancy I can see her walking up the hill again
And it seems like only yesterday and not forty five years ago
When she lived near Cullen Village where the Araglen waters
flow.
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