The Fynoderee went to the meadow

To lift the dew at grey cock crow,

The maiden hair and the cow herb

He was stamping them both his feet under;

He was stretching himself on the meadow,

He threw the grass on the left hand;

Last year he caused us to wonder,

This year he’s doing far better.

He was stretching himself on the meadow,

The herbs in bloom he was cutting,

The bog bean herb in the curragh,

As he went on his way it was shaking,

Everything with his scythe he was cutting,

To sods was skinning the meadows,

And if a leaf were left standing,

With his heels he was stamping it under.