Author: Fred E. Weatherly
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;
I’ll be here in sunshine or in shadow;
Oh Danny boy, Oh Danny boy, I love you so.
You’ll come and find the place where I am lying,
And I shall sleep in peace until you come to me.