You tender-hearted maidens, of a high and a low degree Likewise you wounded lovers, come listen unto me Whilst here I am bewailing a 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 flowery mantle bedecked the meadows gay The fields were decorated, all Nature seemed to smile It was there that I parted from my own true love, my charming Edward Boyle
His friends and relations, they did him then convey To Belfast town of high renown until he reached the quay And with courage bold he did set sail and he left that Shamrock Shore All joys be with you Edward Boyle, will I ever see you more?
In the county of Fermanagh, in the parish of Rosslea In the lands of Brahawaddy, in the mountains of Trory Bay Brought up by honest parents whom did together toil But sure now they are sunk in sorrows for the loss of their Edward Boyle
This country has grown lonesome since young Edward, he went away He was the pride of the college land, how sweet his flute could play His comrades all both great and small, they swore they’d leave the soil In hopes once more, on Columbia’s shore they would meet with young Edward Boyle.
My curse on you Columbus, ‘twas you found out the way And likewise to Amerikay that has stolen my love away From that time down sure we are bound in hardship, grief, and toil To lament and mourn for our love’s return, like I for young Edward Boyle
Now to conclude and finish, young men and maids be true Let you never part for riches great as some false lovers do For if I possessed of this universe St. Patrick’s blessed isle I would part it all, and ten times more for one glimpse of you, Edward Boyle