| There is a tavern in the town, in the town
|
| And there my true love sits him down, sits him down,
|
| And drinks his wine as merry as can be,
|
| And never, never thinks of me.
|
| cho: Fare thee well, for I must leave thee,
|
| Do not let this parting grieve thee,
|
| And remember that the best of friends
|
| Must part, must part.
|
| Adieu, adieu kind friends, yes, adieu
|
| I can no longer stay with you, stay with you,
|
| I’ll hang my harp on the weeping willow tree,
|
| And may the world go well with thee.
|
| He left me for a damsel dark, damsel dark,
|
| Each Friday night they used to spark,
|
| Used to spark,
|
| And now my love who once was true to me
|
| Takes this dark damsel on his knee.
|
| And now I see him nevermore, nevermore;
|
| He never knocks upon my door, on my door;
|
| Oh, woe is me; |
| he pinned a little note,
|
| And these were all the words he wrote:
|
| Oh, dig my grave both wide and deep, wide and deep;
|
| Put tombstones at my head and feet, head and feet
|
| And on my breast you may carve a turtle dove,
|
| To signify I died of love. |