Oh as I roved out one bright summer's morn

Down by Blackwaterside

I'd be gazing on the flowers that did bloom all around

When a pretty Irish girl I spied

Oh 'twas red and rosy was her cheeks

Golden yellow was her hair

As I clasped her by the lily-white hand

And I said, "My young sweetheart fair"

There be many a good man's daughter

Going around from town to town

There be many a good man's daughter with

Her hair all hanging down

They'll be rocking the cradles the whole day long

Singing, "Low-la, low-la, low"

Was there ever a poor misfortunate girl

Was as easily led as you?

Oh that wasn't the promise that you made to me

Down by Blackwaterside

That wasn't the promise that you made to me

When you asked me to be your bride

That wasn't the promise that you made to me

When you swore you'd be loyal and true

When the fishes fly and the seas run dry

I'll return and I'll marry you