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,
’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,
It’s I’ll be there in sunshine or in shadow, —
O Danny Boy, O Danny Boy, I love you so!
But if ye come, and
all the flowers dying,
And I am dead, as dead
I well may be,
You’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 dreams shall warm and sweeter be,
For I will hear and know that you still love me,
O Danny Boy, O Danny Boy, I wait for thee!