If you listen I'll sing you a sweet little song
Of a flower that has now drooped and dead
Yet dearer to me than all of it's mates
Tho' each holds aloft it's proud head
'Twas given to me by a girl that I now
Since we've met, faith I've known no repose
She is dearer by far than the world's brightest star
And I call her my wild Irish Rose.

Chorus: My wild Irish Rose, the sweetest flower that grows
You may search everywhere but none can compare
With my wild Irish Rose, the dearest flower that grows
And some day for my sake, she may let me take
The bloom from my wild Irish Rose.

They may sing of their roses, which by other names
Would smell just as sweet, they say
But I know that my Rose would never consent
To have that sweet name taken away
Her glances are shy, when e'er I pass by
The bower where my true love grows
And my one wish has been that some day I may win
The heart of my wild Irish Rose.

Written and performed by Chancellor Chauncey Olcott - 1899
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