Where Lagan stream sings lullaby There blows a lily fair The twilight gleam is in her eye The night is on her hair And like a love-sick lennan-shee She has my heart in thrall Nor life I owe nor liberty For love is lord of all. And often when the beetle's horn Hath lulled the eve to sleep I steal unto her shieling lorn And thru the dooring peep. There on the cricket's singing stone, She spares the bogwood fire, And hums in sad sweet undertone The songs of heart's desire Nor life I owe nor liberty For love is lord of all. For love is lord of all.