O 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.
But come ye back when summer's in the meadow, Or when the valley's hushed and white with snow. I'll be here in sunshine or in shadow; Oh Danny Boy, oh Danny Boy, I love you so!
But when ye come, and all the flow'rs are dying, If I am dead, as dead I may well be. Ye'll come and find the place where I am lying, And kneel and say an Ave there for me.
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!
