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Oh Danny boy, the pipes, the pipes are calling |
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From glen to glen and down the mountain side |
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The summer's gone and all the roses dying |
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'Tis you, 'tis you must go and I must bide |
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But come ye back when summer's in the meadow |
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Or when the valley's hushed and white with snow |
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And I'll be here in sunshine or in shadow |
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Oh Danny boy, oh Danny boy I love you so |
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But if he come and all the roses dying |
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And I am dead, as dead I well may be |
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He'll come and find the place where I am lying |
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And kneel and say an ave there for me |
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And I shall feel, tho soft you tread above me |
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And then my grave will richer, sweeter be |
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For you will bend and tell me that you love me |
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And I shall rest in peace until you come to me |
