If I was King of Arryn's Isle, had all the things at my will, I would roam through recreation
And seek for comfort still. The comfort I would seek, as you may understand it,
Would be to gain you lovely myrtle, the flower of sweet strawberry,
Her cheeks are rosy red, her hair is lovely brown,
And o'er her lily-white shoulders, her golden hair hangs down,
She is one of the fairest creatures, and famous for her clever,
She is my pride, my lovely myrtle, the flower of sweet strawberry.
If I had you, lovely myrtle, way down in Ynyshoel,
Or in some lonesome valley, or the wild woods of Tyrol,
I would give my whole endeavour, and I'd try to work a plan,
For to gain you, lovely myrtle, the flower of sweet strawberry.
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