Johnny Doyle

There's one thing that grieves me that I will confess,
That I go to Meeting and my true love goes to Mass;
But I'd go to Mass and I'd think it no toil
And through the world wander with you, Johnny Doyle.

It happened to be on a Saturday night
When Johnny and I were going to take our flight,
My waiting maid being standing by, as plain as you may see,
She went to my mother and told upon me.

My mother she locked me in a room that was high
Where no one could hear me not no one could spy;
She bundled up my clothes and told me to begone,
So shyly and slowly I then put them on.

Five hundred bright guineas did my father provide
The day that I was to be Sammy Moore's bride,
And six double horsemen to ride to Ballintown,
Unto one Mr. Gordon where we lighted down.

Soon as the minister he opened the door
My earrings they busted and fell till the floor,
And to fifty-five pieces my laces they flew,
I thought that my poor heart is was breaking in two.

Oh, mother, dear mother, make you fast the room door,
Till the break of day don't let in Sammy Moore.
Early the next morning when young Sammy arose
Straight to his young bride's chamber he goes,

Folding down the clothes he found she was dead,
And Johnny Doyle's handkerchief tied round her head;
She lay down to sleep and she never awoke,
For young Johnny Doyle, her heart it was broke.
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