| Oh draw near each young lover
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| Give ear to my story that bears my sad mournful tale
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| Come and join me in chorus and lend me your pity
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| Whilst I my misfortune bewail
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| The grief of my poor heart no tongue can disclose
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| My cheeks are now pale they once bloomed like the rose
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| And it’s all for a young man whom I do suppose
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| Is now far from sweet Erin the Green
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| Now when we were children
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| We walked out together along the green meadows so neat
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| And although we were childish we loved one another
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| Whilst gathering the wild berries sweet
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| It was to sweet Garvagh where we went to school
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| He was first in his class and correct in each rule
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| And I cheerfully walked home by Kilnacoole
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| With the flower of sweet Erin the Green
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| Oh his head on my breast
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| And he used to reposed each evening under the shade
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| A song in my praises my darling composed
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| And he styled me the cool Derry maid
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| At the time I denied him I’d die for his sake
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| It was little I thought my denial he’d take
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| Oh but my own misfortune I made a mistake
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| When he left me on Erin the Green |