as i walked down bornoway
one brigth sunday morning in may
'twas there i met the finest girl
her beauty is hard to tell
she has got dimples on her cheeks
'twas almost two feet deep
her face shone like silk
it made falls asleep
so soft like wool was her skin
not a dust would like to stain
took all the girls in bornowaten good years to spin
she had two great legs
and on them she did stand
but mind you not like pegs
with it she covered a plot of land
hair like an iroko tree
they grew up to the moon
i climbed up in april
i came down late june
if you dont believe what i say
and you think it is a lie
why not go down to bornoway
and see for yourself as i
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem