O Danny Boy, the pipes are calling
From glen to glen, and down the mountian 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 hushead and white with snow.
I'll be there 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 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 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!