Mary From Dungloe (2)

Oh, then fare ye well, sweet Donegal, the Rosses and Gweedore
I’m crossing the main ocean, where the foaming billows roar
It breaks my heart from you to part, where I spent many happy days
Farewell to kind relations for I’m bound for Amerikay

Oh my love is tall and handsome and her age is scarce eighteen
She far exceeds all other fair maids when she trips o’er the green
Her lovely neck and shoulders are fairer than the snow
Till the day I die I’ll ne’er deny my Mary from Dungloe

If I was at home in sweet Dungloe a letter I would write
Kind thoughts would fill my bosom for Mary, my delight
‘Tis in her father’s garden the fairest violets grow
And ’twas there I came to court the maid, my Mary from Dungloe

Ah, then Mary, you’re my hearts delight, my pride and only care
It was your cruel father would not let me stay there
But absence makes the heart grow fond and when I’m o’er the main
May the Lord protect my darling girl till I return again

And I wished I was in sweet Dungloe and seated on the grass
And by my side a bottle of wine and on my knee a lass
I’d call for liquor of the best and I’d pay before I go
And I’d roll my Mary in my arms in the town of sweet Dungloe