Poetry Corner: Danny Boy

Let’s hoist a pint in memory of those no longer among us

Ironically, this song, which gets lots of play on St. Patrick’s day, is based on a Northern Irish tune, and its lyrics were written by an Englishman, Frederick Weatherly.

I’m playing it tonight in honor of Tres, whose red-gold fur and green eyes seemed especially Irish. And he also was fey – what modern Americans would call either intuitive (if they’re scientifically minded) or psychic (if they believe in such powers). You can find the lyrics and also listen to the song (with some variations in the exact wording of the lyrics, but then, that’s what folk music is about) at Brobdingnagian Bards.

Danny Boy

words Frederick Weatherly and music traditional

Oh Danny boy, the pipes, the pipes are calling
From glen to glen, and down the mountain side
The summer's gone, and all the flowers are dying
'tis you, 'tis you must go and I must bide.

But come you back when summer's in the meadow
Or when the valley's hushed and white with snow
'tis I'll be there in sunshine or in shadow
Oh Danny boy, oh Danny boy, I love you so.

And if you come, when all the flowers are dying
And I am dead, as dead I well may be
You'll come and find the place where I am lying
And kneel and say an "Ave" there for me.

And I shall hear, tho' soft you tread above me
And all my dreams will warm and sweeter be
If you'll not fail to tell me that you love me
I simply sleep in peace until you come to me.