Beloved is Cummin of the tresses most beauteous,
And Cainnech the duteous and Comgall the Blest.

Were all of Alba mine now to enter,
Mine from the centre and through to the sea;
I would rather possess in deep-leaved Derry
The home that was very very dear to me.

To Derry my love is ever awarded,
For her lawns smooth-swarded, her pure clear wells,
And the hosts of angels that hover and hover
Over and over her oak-set dells.

Indeed and indeed for these joys I love her,
Pure air is above her, smooth turf below;
While evermore over each oak-bough leafy
A beautiful bevy of angels go.

My Derry, my little oak grove of Erin!
My dwelling was therein, my small dear cell.
Strike him, O Living God out of Heaven,
With Thy red Levin who works them ill.

Beloved shall Derry and Durrow endure,
Beloved Raphoe of the pure clear well,
Beloved Drumhome with its sweet acorn showers,
Beloved the towers of Swords and Kells!

Beloved too at my heart as any
Art thou Drumcliffe on Culcinné's strand,