| 'Twas in the County Kerry, a little ways from Clare
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| Where the boys and girls are merry at the pattern dance so fair
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| The town is called Killorglin, a pretty place to view
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| But the thing that makes it interesting is my Bridget Donaghue
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| Oh Bridget Donaghue, I really do love you
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| Although I’m in America, to you I will be true
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| And Bridget Donaghue, I’ll tell you what we’ll do
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| Just take the name of Patterson and I’ll take Donaghue
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| Her father is a farmer, a decent man is he
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| And he’s loved and well-respected from Killorglin to Tralee
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| And Bridget on a Sunday when coming home from mass
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| She’s admired by all the people, sure they wait to see her pass
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| I sent my love a picture, I did upon my word
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| Not a picture of myself, but 'twas a picture of a bird
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| It was the Yankee Eagle, says I, «Miss Donaghue
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| This eagle’s wings are large enough to shelter me and you» |