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Ye tender young lovers of Erin,
Come listen a while unto me,
You'll find I'm a poor distressed maiden,
Crying here under a tree;
The heart in my bosom it's wounded,
The truth unto you I'll explain,
Oh, Jimmy, the flower of this island,
He left me on Patrick's Day.
When first I beheld this young hero,
The hills and the meadows were green,
And every flowering blossom
Most beautiful there to be seen;
As he sat in a green shady bower,
His beautiful tunes there did play,
Whilst the blackbirds and thrush joined in concert
With him on St. Patrick's Day.
My friends and relations consulted
When they found that I were so inclined,
All stories they told me about him
To banish him out of my mind;
But all what they say were a folly,
Every morning and evening I'd stray,
Lamenting the loss of my true lover
Who left me on St. Patrick's Day.
Now Jimmy, the flower of this island,
Your name I will never deny,
The vows and the promise you gave me
I'll never forget till I die;
But now he's crossed o'er the ocean,
He left me quite lonely to stray,
I'm in hopes I will meet him in splendor
Once more on St. Patrick's Day.
Collected in 1950 from Will O'Brien [b.1874/5] of Cape Broyle, NL, and published in MacEdward Leach And The Songs Of Atlantic Canada © 2004 Memorial University of Newfoundland Folklore and Language Archive (MUNFLA).
A variant was collected in 1951 from Cyril O'Brien of Trepassey, NL, and published as St. Patrick's Day in MacEdward Leach And The Songs Of Atlantic Canada © 2004 Memorial University of Newfoundland Folklore and Language Archive (MUNFLA).
