Upon one summer's full moon,
I walked pass the banks of Dún Laoghaire
where I stumbled upon a maiden fair
and blessed the harvest month of June
Pearls fell from her big eyes - blue with grey
In pain and sorrow she did complain
for her deceased lover who once sailed
the wild ocean, boldly and gay
With tender steps I approached her shyly,
and bestowed a single rose picked before,
Alas she threw it in the water,
where it serenely floated on the sea
She then knelt down to me and prayed :
,, Only faithful to my poor William I was
and faithful to the end I shall remain ,,
then upon the starry sky she faithfully gazed
I gently leaned and kissed her jeweled forehead,
but the truth to her I simply could not tell
For I was the same poor sailor William
whom everyone carelessly took for dead
Suddenly she rose up, looking as pail as a ghost,
Petrified, I ran away, as dandelions swayed behind.
Never glancing back at her, I only wished to
disappear under the light of the candle lamp post.
And on the following grim morning,
I , from my old mother, harshly learned
the horrendous news why the golden bells of our church
mercilessly woke me up by their lamenting ring
For a shivering white hand has taken
the whaler's rusty harpoon, my bewitched Mirabelle,
A pierced heart in her watery body
lying down in the peaceful marine lagoon
So, every night I cannot bear to rest nor sleep,
Her maroon blood now sheds upon the sky at dusk
leaving me in oblivion of a sailors repose,
and lamenting memories bound forever to keep ...
