As I walked out one morning, down by a river's side,
And gazing all around me, an Irish girl I spied.
The tears ran down her rosy cheeks, and she began to cry,
My love's gone to America, and quite forsaken me.
I went to church last Sunday, my love he passed me by.
I knew his mind was changing by the roving of his eye.
I knew his mind was altered to a girl of high degree,
Saying, Willy, lovely Willy, your love has wounded me.
Last night as I lay on my bed, so sick and bad was I,
I called for a knapkin, around my head to tie.
Was he as bad in love as me, perhaps I'd mend again,
O love, it is a killing thing, did you ever feel the pain ?
I wish I was a butterfly, I'd fly to my love's breast,
I wish I was a linnet, I would sing my love to rest,
I wish I was a nightingale, I'd sit and sing so clear,
I'd sing a song for you, false love, for once I loved you dear.