From English Traditional Songs and Carols by Lucy E. Broadwood (London: Boosey & Co., 1908), page 60:


THE IRISH GIRL

1. Abroad as I was walking down by the river side,
I gazèd all around me, an Irish girl I spied.
So red and rosy were her cheeks, and yellow was her hair,
And costly were the robes of gold my Irish girl did wear.

2. Her shoes were of the Spanish black, all spangled round with dew.
She wrung her hands, and tore her hair, crying "Love! what shall I do?
I'm going home, I'm going home, I'm going home," said she.
"Why will you go a-roving, and slight your dear Polliè?"

3. The very last time I saw my love she seemed to lie in pain.
With sorrow, grief and anguish her heart was broke in twain.
"Oh! there's many a man that's worse than he, then why should I complain?
Oh, love is such a killing thing! Did you ever feel the pain?"

4. I wish my love was a red rose, and in the garden grew,
And I to be the gardener; to her I would be true.
There's not a month throughout the year, but love I would renew.
With lilies I would garnish her, sweet William, thyme, and rue.

5. I wish I was a butterfly. I'd fly to my love's breast.
I wish I was a linnet. I'd sing my love to rest.
I wish I was a nightingale. I'd sing till morning clear.
I'd sit and sing to you, Pollie, the girl I love so dear.

6. I wish I was at Exeter, all seated on the grass,
With a bottle of whiskey in my hand, and on my knee a lass.
I'd call for liquor merrily, and pay before I go.
I'd hold her in my arms once more, let the wind blow high or low.