As beautiful Kitty one morning was tripping
With a pitcher of milk from the fair of Coleraine,
When she saw me she stumbled, the pitcher it tumbled.
And all the sweet buttermilk watered the plain.
0, what shall I do now, 't was looking at you now,
Sure, sure, such a pitcher I'll ne'er meet again,
'T was the pride of my dairy, Barney M'Leary,
You're sent as a plague to the girls of Coleraine.
I sat down beside her, and gently did chide her
That such a misfortune should give her such pain,
A kiss I then gave her, —before I did leave her,
She vowed for such pleasure she 'd break it again.
'T was hay-making season, I can't tell the reason,
Misfortunes will never come single, —that's plain.
For very soon after poor Kitty's disaster,
The devil a pitcher was whole in Coleraine.