An Raibh Tú Ag An gCarraig?
(Were You At The Rock?)

(Traditional)

Did you go then to the grey rocks,
And behind a wind-swept crevice there,
Did you find our Mary gently waiting,
Our Lady, sweet and fair?

Did the sun shine brightly 'round her
Making gold darts through her hair?
And will you stay silent as the day
When the wind has left the air?

Oh, my Mary, long we wait here
While the hunter combs through the mountains high,
And the soft wind whispers "guard her,"
'Though as hunted we must die.
Oh, the dawn is longtime coming,
And the long night clings with care,
But they shall not find with their chains to bind
My Mary, pure and fair.