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The Irish Girl

This song is found in England and America.
The words are taken from 19th century broadsides.
The tune is Irish, and may have been called: "Oh Love, it is a Killing Thing".

    As I walked out one morning, down by a river's side,
    And gazing all around me, an Irish girl I spied.
    The tears ran down her rosy cheeks, and she began to cry,
    My love's gone to America, and quite forsaken me.

    I went to church last Sunday, my love he passed me by.
    I knew his mind was changing by the roving of his eye.
    I knew his mind was altered to a girl of high degree,
    Saying, Willy, lovely Willy, your love has wounded me.

    Last night as I lay on my bed, so sick and bad was I,
    I called for a knapkin, around my head to tie.
    Was he as bad in love as me, perhaps I'd mend again,
    O love, it is a killing thing, did you ever feel the pain ?

    I wish I was a butterfly, I'd fly to my love's breast,
    I wish I was a linnet, I would sing my love to rest,
    I wish I was a nightingale, I'd sit and sing so clear,
    I'd sing a song for you, false love, for once I loved you dear.

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