This is as I learned it from Rosemary Hardman, 40 years ago :

How oft I'll wander the highest hilltop
And scan the ocean, thy boat to see.
Will't come tonight, love ? Will't come tomorrow
Or ever come, love, to comfort me ?

Fhir a bhata, 's no horo eile (tris)
So fare thee well, love, where'er thou be.

They call thee false one, they call thee fickle
And strive to change me, but Oh! in vain ;
No ; thou'rt my dream yet throughout the long night
And at the dawning I call thy name. (Cho)

There's not a hamlet - too well I know it !
Where you won't wander and bide a while ;
But all its old folks you'll win with talking
And charm its maidens with song and smile. (Cho

Dost thou remember the promise made me ?
The silken gown and the ring of gold ?
I own the locket with thine hair and portrait
But Oh ! thy heart, love, I'll never own. Cho

I have always resolved it in the major rather than the minor, after the final chorus.