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