Lyr. Add: SHULEAGRA, Most Admire'd Parridy on

There is none but the powers above,
Can tell how I esteem my love,
He was as mild just as the dove,
Cuththeethuvorneen slawn,

Chorus:
Gone, gone, he is gone agrah,
My heart for him is greiveing sore,
Since he has left the Irish-shore
Oh cuththeethuvorneen slawn,

am an heires and is my joy, (?) (sic!)
With truth I love my blackhair'd boy,
his absence does me sore anoy,
Cuththeethuvorneen slawn,

To beg for him I'd feel no shame
But now on Rusia's crimson plains,
I fear my darling he lies slain,
Oh cuththeethuvorneen slawn

Its stormy winds now keeps me heare,
Or eis I would pursue my dear,
But after him I will shure'y steer,
Oh cuththeethuvorneen slawn,

Its true indeed here I must stay,
Until I see the harvest day,
When fragant flowers the will be gay,
Oh cuththeethuvorneen slawn,

No roaring billows then I'd fear,
For him I'd sail of far and near,
Dead or alive I love my dear,
Oh cuththeethuvorneen slawn,

I see no fault in all my dear,
He was noble virtues mild and fair,
For him I's shed a many a tear,
Oh cuthhtheethuvorneen slawn,

I'll (?) never will deny my dear,
found him constant as the dove,
Come send him back you powers above,
Oh cuththeethuvorneen slawn,

There may have been more- thank the "powers above" that it is lost. Spellings not changed.
Bodleian, Ballads Catalogue, Harding B26(497), printed by P. Brereton, Dublin, ca. 1867.
The reference to "Rusia" suggests the 1850s and the Crimean War.