If I Were King of Ireland. My love’s a match in beauty For every flower that blows ; Her little ear’s a lily, Her velvet cheek a rose ; Her locks, like gillygowans, Hang golden to her knee. If I were King of Ireland, My Queen she’d surely be. Her eyes are fond forget-me-not, And no such snow is seen Upon the heaving hawthorn bush As crests her bodice green, The thrushes, when she’s talking, Sit listening on the tree. If I were King of Ireland, My Queen she’d surely be. Her folk look more above for her, I know the darling better ; So I’ve set down my love for her All in one secret letter. And here’s her answer back to me ; My heart, my heart keep steady ! If I were King of Ireland ? I’m King, I’m King already. Alfred Perceval Graves .