From the recording Cavan Girl
This one has a nice, trad feel to it: so much so that many people think it's a traditional, and therefore public-domain (read: royalty-free) song.
Written by the prolific songwriter, gentleman philosopher and all-around great guy Thom Moore. I first met Thom when he was with the band Train to Sligo while they SRO'd the Loch Ness Monster pub in Pasadena - pretty much every Saturday night. Great times.
Years later I contacted Thom for information on how to pay him the royalties for this song. The gracious gentleman refused them, and went on to give me permission to record any of his songs. A proper gentleman is our Thom.
As I walk the road from Killashandra, weary eyes are down. For it's twelve long miles around the lake to get to Cavan town. Though Oughter and the road I go once seemed beyond compare. Now I curse the time it takes to reach my Cavan girl so fair. Now the autumn shades are on the leaves, the trees will soon be bare, Each red-gold leaf around me seems the color of her hair. My gaze retreats, defies my feet and once again I sigh, As a broken pool of sky recalls the color of her eyes. At Cavan Cross each Sunday morning it's there she can be found, And she seems to have the eye of every boy in Cavan town. If my luck will hold I'll have the golden summer of her smile, And she'll break the hearts of Cavan men and talk with me a while. So next Sunday evening finds me homeward, Killashandra bound. To work the week 'til I return to court in Cavan town. When asked if she would be my wife at least she's not said, "no." So come Sunday morning rouse myself, and back to her I'll go. As I walk the road from Killashandra, weary eyes are down. For it's twelve long miles around the lake to get to Cavan town. Though Oughter and the road I go once seemed beyond compare. Now I curse the time it takes to reach my Cavan girl so fair.