When winter was brawling, o'er high hills and mountains,
And dark were the clouds o'er the deep rolling sea,
I spied a wee lass as the daylight was dawning,
She was asking the road to sweet Carnlough Bay.

Said I, "my wee lassie, I can well teIl you,
The number of miles or how far it may be,
But if you will consent, I'll convoy you a wee bit,
And I'll show you the road to sweet Carnlough Bay."

"You'll turn to the right and pass down by the churchyard,
Cross over the river and down by the sea,
We'll call at Pat Hamill's and have a wee drop there,
Just to help us along to sweet Carnlough Bay."

Here's a health to Pat Hamill, likewise the wee lassie,
And every young laddie that's listening to me,
And ne'er turn your back on a bonnie wee lassie,
When she's asking the road to sweet Carnlough Bay.