November
Wednesday 6 August 2008 photo 1/1
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Oh Danny Boy, the pipes, the pipes are calling From glen to glen, and down the mountainside. The summer's gone, and all the flowers are dying. 'Tis you, 'tis you must go and I must bide. But come ye back when summer's in the meadow Or when the valley's hushed and white with snow, 'Tis I'll be there in sunshine or in shadow. Oh Danny Boy, Oh Danny Boy, I love you so. But if ye come, and all the flowers are dying And I am dead, as dead I well may be. Ye'll come and find the place where I am lying And kneel and say an "Ave" there for me. And I shall hear, though soft you tread above me, And all my dreams will warmer, sweeter be,
For you will bend and tell me that you love me, And I shall sleep in peace until you come to me. And I shall sleep in peace until you come to me.
Oh Danny Boy, the pipes, the pipes are calling From glen to glen, and down the mountainside. The summer's gone, and all the flowers are dying. 'Tis you, 'tis you must go and I must bide. But come ye back when summer's in the meadow Or when the valley's hushed and white with snow, 'Tis I'll be there in sunshine or in shadow. Oh Danny Boy, Oh Danny Boy, I love you so. But if ye come, and all the flowers are dying And I am dead, as dead I well may be. Ye'll come and find the place where I am lying And kneel and say an "Ave" there for me. And I shall hear, though soft you tread above me, And all my dreams will warmer, sweeter be,
For you will bend and tell me that you love me, And I shall sleep in peace until you come to me. And I shall sleep in peace until you come to me.
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