Oh Bríd Óg O'Malley You have left my heart breaking You've sent the death pangs Of sorrow to pierce my heart sore A hundred men are craving For your breathtaking beauty You're the fairest of maidens In Oriel for sure No spectacle is fairer Than moonbeams on the harbor Or the sweet scented blossoms Of the sloe on the thorn But my love shines much brighter In looks and in stature That honey-lipped beauty Who never said wrong I'm a handsome young fellow Who is thinking of wedlock But my life will be shortened If I don't get my dear My love and my darling Prepare now to meet me On next Sunday evening On the road to Drum Slieve 'Tis sadly and lonely I pass the time on Sunday My head bowed in sorrow My sights heavy with woe As I gaze upon the byways That my true love walks over Now she's wed to another And left me forlorn