Danny Boy |
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 roses falling. |
It's you, it's you must go and I must bide. |
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But come ye back when summer's in the meadow |
Or when the valley's hushed and white with snow. |
It's I'll be here in sunshine or in shadow. |
Oh, Danny Boy, oh Danny Boy, I love you so! |
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But when ye come, and all the flow'rs are dying, |
If I am dead, as dead I well may be, |
Ye'll come and find the place where I am lying |
And kneel and say an Ave there for me. |
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And I shall hear, though soft you tread above me, |
And all my grave will warmer, sweeter be, |
For you will bend and tell me that you love me, |
And I shall sleep in peace until you come to me. |
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- Frederick Edward Weatherly |