I’ll tell my ma


I’ll tell ma when I go home
The boys won’t leave the girls alone
They pull my hair and steal my comb
And that’s all right till I get home
She is handsome, she is pretty
She’s the belle o’ Belfast City
She is a-courtin’, one two three
Oh 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 and they ring the bell
Saying, “Ah, me true love, are ye well”
Out she comes as white as snow,
Rings on her fingers and bells on her toes
Old Johnny Murray says she’ll die
If she doesn’t get the fellow with the roving eye.

Let the wind and the rain and hail blow high
Let the snow come hurling from the sky
She’s as nice as apple pie,
She’ll get her own man by and by
Once 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

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