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I'll tell my ma when I get home, |
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The boys won't leave the girls alone |
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They pull my hair and stole my comb |
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But that's all right till I go home |
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She is handsome, she is pretty, |
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She is the Belle of Belfast city |
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She is a courtin' one, two, three, |
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Please won't you tell me who is she |
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Albert Mooney says he loves her, |
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All the boys are fightin' for her |
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Knock at the door and ring at the bell, |
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Saying oh my true love, are you well |
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Out she comes as white as snow, |
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Rrings on her fingers, bells on her toes |
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Ould Johnny Morrissey says she'll die |
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If she doesn't get the fella with the roving eye |
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Let the wind and the rain and the hail blow high |
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And the snow come travellin' through the sky |
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She's as sweet as apple pie, |
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She'll get her own lad by and by |
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When she gets a lad of her own |
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She won't tell her ma when she gets home |
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Let them all come as they will |
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For it's Albert Mooney she loves still |
