Oh, Danny boy, the pipes, the pipes are calling,

From glen to glen, and down the mountainside.

The summer's gone, and all the roses falling.

Tis you, tis you must go and I must bide.

But come ye back when summer's in the meadow,

And when the valley's hushed and white with snow.

Tis I'll be here in sunshine or in shadow,

Oh, Danny boy, oh, Danny boy,

I love you so.