Oh, Danny boy, the pipes, the pipes are calling
From glen to glen, and down the mountainside.
The summer's gone, and all the flowers are dying,
'Tis you, 'tis you must go and I must bide.
But come ye back when summer's in the meadows,
Or when the valley's hushed and white with snow,
Then I'll be here in sunshine or in shadow,
Oh, Danny boy, oh Danny boy, I love you so!