She
goes down to meet her mummie returning from the fields
A
wicker basket on her hip and a spaniel at her heels
And
when she picks wild flowers she wonders should she go or stay
Now
that Sligo fair is just a week away
Her
hand is on the backseat of a traveller’s caravan
Headed
for the city to a new life she can plan
No
more days of waiting for her man to name the day
Now
that Sligo fair is just a week away
High
above the northern coast the seagulls circle high
To
the west the setting sun spread loke gold across the sky
Oh
homeward bound the freedom heard at the end of Mouthhall Bay
Now
that Sligo fair is just a week away
She
goes down to meet her mummie returning from the fields
A
wicker basket on her hip and a spaniel at her heels
And
when she picks wild flowers she wonders should she go or stay
Now
that Sligo fair is just
Now
that Sligo fair is just
Now
that Sligo fair is just a week away
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