In Dublin city, where I did dwell,
Lived a butcher boy, I loved quite well,
He courted me, my life away,
But now with me, he will not stay....
I wish my baby, it was born,
And smiling on its daddy's knee,
And me, poor girl, was dead and gone,
With the long green grass, growing over me....
She went upstairs, to go to bed,
And calling to her mother said,
Bring me a chair, till I sit down,
And a pen and ink, till I write down....
With every word, she shed a tear,
And every line cried willy dear,
Oh, what a foolish girl was I,
To fall in love, with a butcher boy....
He went upstairs, and the door he broke,
He found her hanging, by a rope,
He took his knife, and he cut her down,
And in her pocket, these words he found....
Oh dig my grave, large, wide and deep,
Place a marble stone, at my head and feet,
And in the middle, a turtle dove,
So the world may know, I died for love.