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A traditional song, believed to have been written in 1810 by a native of Kerry, it was first published by E. Walsh in 1847. Tradition attributes it to a young man’s secret love for his brother's bride: Too poor to support her and too shy to propose, he had gone abroad to seek his fortune. But when he returned to claim his beloved, he found her married to his brother. He wrote this song for her but, for obvious reasons, refused to reveal her name.
Requested by Fionnuala at Beltaine, 2006. Found on the album ‘At the End of the Day’ by Dervish. I found the lyrics posted by Aisling McKinnet in Wed, Jul 22 1998, guitar chords put in by Comyn.
Em7 020000
D/F# 2x0232 (thumb the F# on the low E string)
A w/G 30222x
A w/F# 2x222x
A w/E 1x222x

    Ar Eirinn Ni Neosfainn Ce Hi

    by trad
    (But for Ireland, I won’t tell her name.)

    Theres a [D] home by the [Em7] wide Avon- [D]more [G D],
    That would [D] sweep o’er the [Em7] broad open [A] sea [A w/G,F#,E],
    And wide [D] rivers where the [Em7] waves wash [D] ashore [G D],
    Whilst bul- [G]rushes they [A] wave to the [D] breeze.
    Where the [D] green ivy [Bm] clings round the [G] door,
    And the [Bm] birds [A] sweetly [G] sing [D w/F#] on each [Em7] tree [A] ,
    O me [D] darling they’re [Em7] tuning their [D] notes [G D],
    Is ar [G] Éirinn [A] ní neosfain cé [D] hí.

    Like a sick man that longs for the dawn,
    I do long for the light of her smile,
    And I pray for my own cailín bán,
    While Im waiting for her by the stile.
    O Id climb all the hills of this land,
    And I’d swim all the depths of the sea,
    To get one kiss from her lily-white hand,
    Is ar Éirinn ní neosfain cé hí.

    I have toiled sore those years of my life,
    Through storm, through sunshine and rain,
    And I surely would venture my life,
    For to shield her one moment from pain,
    For she being my comfort in life,
    Though my comfort and joy she may be,
    She’s my own she is my promised wife,
    Is ar Éirinn ní neosfain cé hí.

    O but when I will call her my own,
    And it’s married we both then will be,
    Like the King and the Queen on their throne,
    We’ll be living in sweet unity,
    O its then I’ll have a home of my own,
    And I’ll rear up a nice family.
    O it’s then that her name will be known,
    But for Ireland I won’t tell her name.