Down-Adown-Derry

Down-adown-derry,         Sweet Annie Maroon,      Gathering daisies         In the meadows of Doone,      Hears a shrill piping,         Elflike and free,      Where the waters go brawling         In rills to the sea;          Singing down-adown-derry.      Down-adown-derry,         Sweet Annie Maroon,      Through the green grasses         Peeps softly; and soon      Spies under green willows         A fairy whose song      Like the smallest of bubbles         Floats bobbing along;          Singing down-adown-derry.      Down-adown-derry,         Her cheeks were like wine,      Her eyes in her wee face         Like water-sparks shine,      Her niminy fingers         Her sleek tresses preen,      The which in the combing         She peeps out between;          Singing down-adown-derry.      Down-adown-derry,         Shrill, shrill was her tune: -      "Come to my water-house,         Annie Maroon:      Come in your dimity,         Ribbon on head,      To wear siller seaweed         And coral instead";          Singing down-adown-derry.      "Down-adown-derry,         Lean fish of the sea,      Bring lanthorns for feasting         The gay Farie;      'Tis sand for the dancing,         A music all sweet      In the water-green gloaming         For thistledown feet";          Singing down-adown-derry.      Down-adown-derry,         Sweet Annie Maroon      Looked large on the fairy         Curled wan as the moon      And all the grey ripples         To the Mill racing by,      With harps and with timbrels         Did ringing reply;          Singing down-adown-derry.      "Down-adown-derry,"         Sang the Fairy of Doone,      Piercing the heart         Of Sweet Annie Maroon;      And lo! when like roses         The clouds of the sun      Faded at dusk, gone         Was Annie Maroon;          Singing down-adown-derry.      Down-adown-derry,         The daisies are few;      Frost twinkles powdery         In haunts of the dew;      And only the robin         Perched on a thorn,      Can comfort the heart         Of a father forlorn;          Singing down-adown-derry.      Down-adown-derry,         There's snow in the air;      Ice where the lily         Bloomed waxen and fair;      He may call o'er the water,         Cry - cry through the Mill,      But Annie Maroon, alas!         Answer ne'er will;          Singing down-adown-derry.