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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.
Sung in 1929 by Clifford Toms, and published as #95 in Ballads And Sea Songs Of Newfoundland, by Elisabeth Bristol Greenleaf and Grace Yarrow Mansfield (Harvard University Press, Cambridge, MA, 1933; Folklore Associates, Hatboro, PA, 1968).
A variant was sung by Mr. M. Curran (b.1870) of Calvert, NL, and published as My Bonny Irish Boy in MacEdward Leach And The Songs Of Atlantic Canada © 2004 Memorial University of Newfoundland Folklore and Language Archive (MUNFLA). Two variants were also collected by Ken Peacock and published as My Bonny Irish Boy in Songs Of The Newfoundland Outports, Volume 2, pp.560-563, by The National Museum Of Canada (1965) Crown Copyrights Reserved.
