O Danny Boy, the pipes, the pipes are calling
From glen to glen and down the mountainside.
The summer's gone and all the roses falling.
'Tis you, 'tis you must go and I must bide.
But come ye back when summer's in the meadow,
Or all the valley's hushed and white with snow.
'Tis I'll be here in sunshine or in shadow.
O Danny Boy, O Danny Boy, I love you so.