#01457 Print This Page
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.