Traditional
I'll tell me Ma when I go home
The boys won't leave the girls alone
They'll pull my hair, they stole my comb
Well, that's alright 'til I go home
She is handsome, she is pretty
She's the belle of Belfast City
She is courting one, two, three
Please won't you tell me, who is she?
Albert Mooney say’s he loves her
All the boys are fighting for her
They knock at the door and ring at the bell
Saying, "Oh my true love, are you well?"
Out she comes, as white as snow
Rings on her fingers, bells on her toes
Ol’ Jenny Murray say's she'll die
If she doesn't get the fellow with the rovin' eye
Let the wind and the rain and the hail blow high
And the snow come tumbling from the sky
She's as nice as apple pie
She'll get her own lad by and by
When she gets a lad of her own
She won't tell her Ma when she comes home
Let them all come as they will
For it's Albert Mooney she loves still