One time when walking down the lane as night was drawing nigh,
I met a colleen with three flowers and she more young than I,
"St. Patrick bless you dear," I said, "If you'll be quick and tell,
The place where you did find these flowers, I seem to know so well."

She took and kissed the first flower once and sweetly said to me,
"This flower comes from the Wicklow hills, it's wet and pure and free,
"Its name is Michael Dwyer, the strongest flower of all,
But I'll keep it fresh beside my breast, though all the world should fall."

She took and kissed the first flower twice and sweetly said to me,
"This flower I pulled in the Antrim fields outside Belfast", said she,
"The name I call it is Wolfe Tone, the bravest flower of all,
But I'll keep it fresh beside my breast, though all the world may fall."

She took and kissed the first flower thrice and softly said to me,
"This flower I found in Thomas Street in Dublin fair," said she,
"It's name is Robert Emmet, the youngest flower of all,
But I'll keep it fresh beside my breast, though all the world should fall."

One time when walking down the lane as night was drawing nigh,
I met a colleen with three flowers and she more young than I,
"Then Emmet, Tone and Dwyer I'll keep, for I do love them all,
And I'll keep them fresh beside my breast, though all the world should fall.".