I wish the sea was not so wide that parts me from my love;
I wish the things men do below were known to God above!

I wish that I were back again in the glens of Donegal,
They’d call me a coward if I return but a hero if I fall!

Is it better to be a living coward, or thrice a hero dead?
It’s better to go to sleep, m’lad, the colour-sergeant said.