Edward Boyle

You feeling hearted Christians of high and low degree
Likewise you wounded lovers, come listen unto me,
While I am here bewailing the lad I do adore
The lad who's fled far from my arms to far Columbia's shores.

In the county of Fermanagh, in the parish of Roslea
In the land of Greaghawarren near the mountain of Slieve Beagh,
Brought up by honest parents, quite free from grief and toil
But now they're sunk in sorrow for the loss of Edward Boyle.

His loving friends and neighbors they all did him convey
To Belfast town of high renown till they left him at the quay,
With a heart undaunted he set sail and left the Shamrock Shore,
All joys go with you, Edward Boyle, till I see you once more.

The country has got lonesome since Edward went away,
He was the pride of Colleh Land, right well the flute could play,
His comrades all both great and small have sworn they'll leave the soil
In hopes once more on Columbia's Shore to meet with Edward Boyle.

My curse upon Columbus that first found out the way,
And likewise on America that lured my love away;
From that time down there's many bound to sorrow, grief and toil
Who lament and mourn their love's return, like me for Edward Boyle.

Now to conclude and make and ends, young men and maids be true,
Never part for riches sake, as some fond lovers do.
If I possessed the universe and Patrick's holy Isle
I'd leave it all and ten times more for one sight of Edward Boyle.
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