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 flowers dying. `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. `Tis 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 roses falling, and I am dead, as dead I well may be, Go out and find the place where I am lying, And kneel and say an Ave there for me.
And I will hear tho` soft your tread above me, and then my grave will warm and sweeter be. For you shall bend and tell me that you love me, And I will sleep in peace until you come to me.
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