In a field by a river, my love and I did lie
And on my naked shoulder, she too proud to cry
She said that I must leave her, an icy tear she froze
How could I melt the heart of a Wild Irish Rose?
Well a gypsy she has made of me, a servant of the street
And back to bed I’ve travelled to taste a love as sweet
Well the heart it knows no reasons and reason never knows
As I lie with them I’m thinking of a Wild Irish Rose.