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Across the dewy morning hills of Erin
Rode Niamh Chinn Oir on a snow-white steed
To Oisin, poet of the Fianna
For she fain would this mortal wed

"Ride with me to the fairyland of Tír na nÓg
For I have long loved you" said she
And Oisin, taken with her beauty
He bade farewell to his company

They rode through stormy regions far beyond the sea
To a land where time had ne'er its harvest reaped
And for an age, there Oisin lived contented
Till longing for his comrades made him weep

I cannot help but read the sad dreams in your eyes
So you may return to your country
And take my blessing with this one command
Do not dismount from your fairy steed

But when at last, he reached that misty island
So strange a sight did meet his puzzled frown
For Oisin rode as a giant among the people
And nowhere were the Fianna to be found

He learned from a gathering of workers
Together straining with a heavy weight
That centuries before his friends had perished
Which painful tidings filled him with despair

As payment for the news that we have told to you
Pray, help us, this heavy stone to move
For if your strength can match your mighty stature
Scarce more than a touch enough should prove

But the saddle tore as Oisin leaned to help them
And sorely he upon the ground was thrown
He quickly changed into an aged man
And ne'er again laid eyes on Tír na nÓg

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