He march'd them all in rank and file,
all on the Iriſh ſhore.
Fare you well ſweet Molly dear,
if I never ſee you more.
He pulld out his pocket-kerchief,
and wip'd her cryſtal eyes,
He ſays my deareſt jewel
I'm ſorry for your ſighs.
But if ever I come back again,
and all goodneſs fpares my life.
There is not a woman breathing,
but you l'll make my wife.
My dear I will convoy you,
as far as ſweet Straban,
My deareſt I'll convoy you
as far as e'er I can.
My hand I never did give
any man but you,
And now you're going to leave me
for the orange and the blue.
He's gone, he's gone and left me,
behind him ſo: to rove,
His name I'll carve on every tree,
through Belanamurry grove,
Pleaſe God that he return again
and his conſort make me,
I'll prove a faithful loving wife,
until the day I die,
