She goes down to
meet her man Returning from the fields A
wicker basket on her arm And a spaniel
at her heels And as she picks wild flowers
She wonders should she go or stay Now
that Sligo fair is just a week away
Her mind is on the backseat of a
traveler's caravan Headed for the city
And to a new life she could plan With
no more days of waiting For her man
to name the day Now that Sligo fair is
just a week away
Hard to be woman in the country life She
don't want to be a milkmaid She wants
to be a wife
Way above the northern coast The
seagulls circle high As to the west the
sinking sun spills gold across the sky And
homeward bound the freedom's heard to the
ending of that day And Sligo fair is
just a week away
Hard to be woman in the country life She
don't want to be a milkmaid She wants
to be a wife
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