ロンドンデリーの歌 (男声四部）
アイルランド民謡　　編曲　福永　陽一郎

Would God I were the tender apple blossom.
That floats and falls from off the twisted bough,
To lie and faint within your silken bosom,
Within your silken bosom as that does now!
Or would I were a little burnish'd apple.
For you to pluck me, gilding by so cold.
While sun and shade your robe of lawn will dapple,
Your robe of lawn and your hair's spun gold.

Yea, would to God I were among the roses.
That lean to kiss you as you float between,
While on the lowest branch bud uncloses
A bud uncloses to touch you Queen Nay,
since you will not love,
would I were growing
A happy daisy in the garden path;
That so your silver foot might press me going
Night press me going, even unto death!