| |
| SO, my Kathleen, you’re goin’ to leave me | |
| All alone by myself in this place, | |
| But I’m sure you will never deceive me, | |
| Oh no, if there’s truth in your face. | |
| Though England’s a beautiful country | 5 |
| Full of iligant boys, och! what then? | |
| You wouldn’t forget your poor Terence, | |
| You’ll come back to ould Ireland again. | |
| |
| Och! them English decavers by nature! | |
| Though maybe you’d think them sincere, | 10 |
| They’ll say you’re a sweet charming creature, | |
| But don’t you belave them, my dear, | |
| No, Kathleen, agrah, don’t be mindin’ | |
| The flatterin’ speeches they’ll make, | |
| Just tell them a poor boy in Ireland | 15 |
| Is breakin’ his heart for your sake. | |
| |
| It’s a folly to keep you from goin’, | |
| Though, faith! ’tis a mighty hard case; | |
| For, Kathleen, you know there’s no knowin’ | |
| When next I may see your sweet face. | 20 |
| And when you come back to me, Kathleen, | |
| None the better shall I be off then: | |
| You’ll be spakin’ such beautiful English, | |
| Sure I won’t know my Kathleen again. | |
| |
| Eh now! Where’s the need of this hurry? | 25 |
| Don’t fluster me so in this way; | |
| I’ve forgot, ’twixt the grief and the flurry, | |
| Every word I was manin’ to say. | |
| Now just wait a minute, I bid ye— | |
| Can I talk if you bother me so? | 30 |
| Och, Kathleen, my blessin’ go wid ye | |
| Ev’ry inch of the way that you go. | |
| |
