Banks of the Lee

When two lovers meet down beside the green bower

When two lovers meet down beneath the green tree

When Mary, fond Mary, declared to her lover

"You have stolen my poor heart from the Banks of the Lee"

I loved her very dearly, so true and sincerely

There was no one in this wide world I loved better than she

Every bush, every bower, every sweet Irish flower

Reminds me of my Mary, on the banks of the Lee.

"Don't stay out late, love, on the moorlands, my Mary

Don't stay out late, love, on the moorlands from me"

How little was our notion when we parted on the ocean

That we were forever parted from the Banks of the Lee

I will pluck her some roses, some blooming Irish roses

I will pluck her some roses, the fairest that ever grew

And I'll leave them on the grave of my own true lovely Mary

In that cold and silent churchyard where she sleeps 'neath the dew