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You folk of this nation that hear my oration,
Come listen with patience and I won't keep you long,
There is no false pretension in what I here mention
It is now my intention for to sing you a song.
I belong to a village where boatmen have knowledge
Of rowing and sailing, experience and skill,
We all took our places, as yearly the case is,
To witness the races this day at Moville.

My notion was bent, so to Blackburn''s I went
To obtain his consent for a sail o'er Lough Foyle,
My friends and my neighbours had ceased from their labours
To obtain the day's pleasure, forsaking their toil.
My petition he granted, I got what I wanted
He freely consented and said nothing ill
He says, “Get you ready and keep yourself steady,
Beware of your conduct this day at Moville.”

I profess not to show it, for indeed I don't know it
To tell you in plain how the race was run,
Suffice it to say, about twelve in the day
The boats went away like the shot of a gun.
Some cheering for Blackburn and others for Allen
Some for McCormick with cheers loud and shrill
And then as in thunder, my heart leapt like wonder
When I first met Mary, the Star of Moville.

My senses were frisky by means of some whiskey
Says I “My wee lassie, how sweetly you sing.”
Some swaggering and roystering while others kept cursing
Sly Cupid kept whispering “Slip round her your wing.”
Says I “Ma'am, excuse me and do not refuse me,
A wee drop of whiskey your sorrow would kill.”
She freely consented and I was contented
That I had gained Mary, the Star of Moville.

So now to conclude and to finish these verses,
I hope an offence I have give unto none,
But I wish I could fly or the ground would rise high,
Or the waters might dry, I might reach Innishowen.
I'll promise you here, if you're over next year
At Eliza's or Jacob's your glasses to fill,
And like a canary I'll sing loud and cheery,
And sound out the praises of the Star of Moville.

I need not narrate, they began to debate;
For a damsel I waited, but she kept her word,
And when they viewed her, as soon as they knew her
A party went to her and brought her on board.
No storm seemed to tease us, but all seemed to please us
With soft gentle breezes our sails for to fill,
From Blackburn's that morning, with Davis and Torrens
The fiddler and Margaret, set sail for Moville.

We did not sail free till we passed the Black Gwee,
When I thought I could see to the opposite shore.
Some sails at a distance in the sunbeams did glisten,
Which seemed to extend from the Point to Culmore.
As we drew nearer, the scene became clearer,
The lough with boats crowded like sheep on a hill,
As fast as a streamer we passed by the steamer,
And shortly our vessel was moored at Moville.

Without further warning, for the morning was charming,
I set out on my journey, to the waters I strayed,
When I came to the Run, I found the boat it was gone;
Till another would come, with Montgomery I stayed.
I soon left the spot, when I got in a cot,
There I knew my conductor would drive her with skill,
Though the water was low, to the boat I did go
Where the crew had their frigate prepared for Moville.

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