Molly bawn, white as lawn,
Rosy as the rowan spray,
Had us all in her thrall,
Young and old, and grave and gay
For her glances through the dances
Such fond fancies o'er us shed,
None felt sure he knocked the floor
With his heels or with his head.

Molly bawn, white as lawn,
Sweeter than the sugar cane,
Drops her eyes at the boys,
Never glancing back again.
Some say shyness tis, or coyness,
And tis fineness some believe
But at all, great and small,
I'm just laughing in my sleeve.

For there's none neath the sun
But myself could tell you why
Molly seems lost in dreams
When the saucy lads go by.
But that reason out of season
Twould be treason now to show
After Lent I'm content
Father Tom and all should know."