(Trad. Arr. Karan Casey, John Doyle, Winifred Horan, Seamus Egan & Michael Aharon)
I went out to the hazel wood because a fire was in my head
And cut and pealed a hazel wand and hooked a berry to a thread
And when white moths were on the wing and moth-like stars were flickering out
I dropped the berry in a stream and caught a little silver trout
When I had laid it on the floor, I went to blow the fire a-flame
But something rustled on the floor, and someone called me by my name
It had become a glimmering girl with apple blossom in her hair
Who called me by my name and ran and faded through the brightening air
Though I am old with wandering through hollow lands and hilly lands
I will find out where she has gone and kiss her lips and take her hands
And walk among long dappled grass and pluck 'til time and times are done
The silver apples of the moon, the golden apples of the sun
