If you listen
I'll sing you a sweet little song
of a flower that's now drooped and dead
Yet dearer to me than all of its mates
Though each holds aloft its proud head
It was given to me by a girl that I know
Since we've met faith I've known no repose
She is dearer by far
than the world's brightest star
And I call her my wild Irish Rose
My wild Irish Rose
that dearest flower that grows
You may search everywhere
but none will compare to
my wild Irish Rose
My wild Irish Rose
the dearest flower that grows
And some day for my sake
She may let me take the bloom
from my wild Irish Rose
They may sing of their roses
which by other names
Would smell just as sweetly they say
But I know that
my Rose would never consent
To have that sweet name taken away
Her glances are shy whenever I pass by
The bower where my true love repairs
And my one wish has been
that some day I might win
The heart of my wild Irish Rose
My wild Irish Rose
the sweetest flower that grows.
You may search everywhere
but none will compare to
my wild Irish Rose
My wild Irish Rose
the dearest flower that grows
And some day for my sake
She may let me take the bloom
from my wild Irish Rose