X:2198 T:Star of the County Down R:song H:Words by Cathal McGarvey (1866-1927), Ramelton, County Donegal. Z:id:hn-song-26 M:2/4 L:1/16 Q:1/4=90 K:Em (B,/D/) | EE ED/E/ | GG A(G/A/) | B(A/G/) EE | D3 B,/D/ | EE ED/E/ | GG AG/A/ | BA/G/ E(E/D/) | E3 || B | dB BA/G/ | AA AG/A/ | BA/G/ EE | D3 B,/D/ | EE ED/E/ | GG AG/A/ | BA/G/ ED | E3 || B | dB BA/G/ | AA AG/A/ | BA/G/ EE | D3 B,/D/ | EE ED/E/ | GG AG/A/ | BA/G/ ED | E3 || W:Near Banbridge Town, in the County Down W:one morning last July, W:from a boreen green came a sweet colleen, W:and she smiled as she passed me by. W:She looked so neat from her two bare feet W:to the sheen of her nut-brown hair, W:Such a coaxing elf, sure I shook myself W:for to see I was really there. W: W:Chorus: W:From Bantry Bay up to Derry Quay, W:and from Galway to Dublin town, W:no maid I've seen like the brown colleen W:that I met in the County Down. W: W:As she onward sped sure I shook my head W:and I looked with a feeling rare, W:and I said, says I, to a passer-by, W:"Who's the maid with the nut-brown hair?" W:He smiled at me, and he said, says he, W:"That's the gem of Ireland's crown, W:young Rosie McCann from the banks of the Bann, W:she's the Star of the County Down." W: W:Chorus W: W:She'd a soft brown eye and a look so sly W:and a smile like the rose in June W:And you hung on each note from her lily-white throat, W:as she lilted an Irish tune. W:At the pattern dance you were held in trance W:as she skipped through a jig or reel W:When her eyes she'd roll, she would lift your soul W:And your heart she would likely steal W: W:Chorus W: W:I've travelled a bit, but I ne'er was hit W:since my roving career began. W:But fair and square I surrendered there W:To the charms of young Rose McCann. W:I'd a heart to let and no tenant yet W:Did I meet with in shawl or gown, W:But in she went and I asked no rent W:From the Star of the County Down. W: W:Chorus W: W:At the harvest fair she'll be surely there W:and I'll dress in my Sunday clothes W:with my hat cocked right, and my shoes shone bright, W:for a smile from my nut-brown Rose. W:No pipe I'll smoke, no horse I'll yoke W:till my plow it is rust coloured brown, W:till my smiling bride by my own fireside W:sits the Star of the County Down. W: W:Chorus