You tender hearted maidens of the high and low
Likewise you wounded lovers, come sympathize with me
Whilst here I am bewailing the youth whom I adore
That is now going from my arms bound for Columbia's shore.
In the time I well remember, it was in the
month of May
When flora's flowing mantle bedecked the meadows gay
The fields were decorated, oh nature seemed to smile
It was there I parted with my own true love, my charming Edward Boyle
His friends and relations they then him
To Belfast town of high reknown until they reach'd the Quay
With courage bound, he did set sail and he left that shamrock shore
All joys be with you Edward Boyle, will I never see you more?
In the county of Fermanagh, in the Parish of
The lands of ?* in the mountains of Troybay
He was reared by honest parents who did together toil
But sure now their sunken sorrows for the loss of their Edward Boyle
This country has grown lonesome since young
Edward went away
He was the pride of the college and how sweet his flute could play
His comrades all both great and small swear they'd leave the soil
In hopes once more on Columbia's shore to meet young Edward Boyle
Now to conclude and finish, young men and maids
May you never part for riches great as some false lovers do
For if I possessed of the universe St. Patrick's blessed isle
I would part it o'er and ten times more for one glimpse of you Edward Boyle.
*The line is possibly the following:
"In the townland of Grahwarren, in the mountains of Troybay,"