The Summer is Come
The summer is come and the grass is green,
The leaves are budding on every tree,
The ships are sailing upon the sea,
And I'll soon find tidings of Gra-mo-chree(1).
The night was wet stormy and wet and cold,
When I lost my darling,my truelove bold;
I'll range the valleys and mountains high,
And I'll never marry until I die.
Oh Johnny, Johnny,I love you well,
I love you better than tongue can tell;
I love my friends and relations too,
But I'd leave them all, love, and go with you!
(1) Grádh mo chroí (love of my heart).
cf Joyce p227, No. 416