Oh Bridgit O’Malley, you left my heart shaken
                                    With a hopeless desolation, I’d have you to know
                                    It’s the wonders of admiration your quiet face has taken
                                    And your beauty will haunt me wherever I go.
                                    The white moon above the pale sands, the pale stars above the thorn tree
                                    Are cold beside my darling, but no purer than she
                                    I gaze upon the cold moon till the stars drown in the warm sea
                                    And the bright eyes of my darling are never on me.
                                    
                                    My Sunday it is weary, my Sunday it is grey now
                                    My heart is a cold thing, my heart is a stone
                                    All joy is dead within me, my life has gone away now
                                    For another has taken my love for his own.
                                    
                                    The day it is approaching when we were to be married
                                    And it’s rather I would die than live only to grieve
                                    Oh meet me, my Darling, e’er the sun sets o’er the barley
                                    And I’ll meet you there on the road to Drumslieve.
                                    
                                    Oh Bridgit O’Malley, you’ve left my heart shaken
                                    With a hopeless desolation, I’d have you to know
                                    It’s the wonders of admiration your quiet face has taken
                                    And your beauty will haunt me wherever I go.