O, first I came a-courted
by a bonny young Irish b'y,
He called me all of his jewels,
his sweetheart, pride and j'y;
'twas in fair Dublin city,
a place so old and fair,
Where first I came a-courted
by a bonny young Irish b'y.
His cheeks was of the roses
and his hair was of the brown,
And hung in ringlets heavy
to his shoulders hanging down;
His teeth was of an ivory white,
his eyes was black as sloes,
He'd charm the heart of any fair girl,
no matter where he goes.
Long time I keeped him company
and hoped to be his bride,
But now he is gone and leaved me
across the ocean wide;
Sure I'm afraid some other fair maid
my true love will enj'y,
While I'm left here lamenting
my bonny young Irish b'y.
So I'll pack all my clothing
and in search of him I'll go,
I'll cross the wide, wide ocean
through stormy winds and snow;
And never shall I marry
until the day I die,
So I'll die broken-hearted
for my bonny young Irish b'y.
O, comrades, I am dying!
There's one more word I'll say,
Take my bones to Ireland
and bury them in the clay;
And write upon my tombstone
to children passing by,
That I died broken-hearted
for my bonny young Irish b'y.
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