It was down by the banks of a clear flowing stream
That first I accosted that comely young game
And in great confusion I asked her her name
Are you Ora or Flora or the famed Queen of Tyre
She answered I’m neither, I’m Síle Dwyer

Go rhyming rogue, let your flocks roam in peace
You won’t find among them that famed golden fleece
The tresses of Helen, that Goddess of Greece
Have harked round your heart in a web of desire
Be off to your Speir-Bhean, said Síle Dwyer

May the sufferings of Sisyphus fall to my share
And may I the sufferings of Tantalus fear
To the dark land of Hades may my soul fall in air
Without linnet in song or an ode on the lyre
If I ever prove false to you Síle Dwyer

Oh had I the wealth of the Orient store
All the gems of Peru and the Mexican Ore
Or the hand of a Midas to mould o’er and o’er
Bright bracelets of gold and of flaming sapphire
I would robe you in splendour, my Síle Dwyer

And yes, this is a genuine old ballad that coincidentally shares my wife’s name.
I came across it just a few days ago.
I now am starting a trust fund to save for the bracelets of flaming sapphire.