I'll tell me ma when I go home,
The boys won't leave the girls alone.
They pulled my hair, they stole my comb,
But that's alright til i go home.
She is handsome, she is prety,
She is the belle of belfast city,
She is a-courtin'. One. Two. Three
Please won't you tell me who is she?

Albert Mooney says he loves her,
All the boys are fighting for her.
They knock on the door, they ring on the bell,
Say'n', "Ah me true love, are you well?"
Out she comes as white as snow
Rings on her fingers, bells on her toes.
Old Jenny Murray says 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
Snow come tumblin' 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!

Now the grasses grow and waters flow
In a free and easy way
But gimme enough of the fine oul' stuff
...

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