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Londonderry Aire Would God I were the tender apple blossom That floats and falls from off the twisted bough To lie and faint within your silken bosom Within your silken bosom as that does now. Or would I were a little burnish'd apple For you to pluck me, gliding by so cold While sun and shade you robe of lawn will dapple Your robe of lawn, and you hair's spun gold. Yea, would to God I were among the roses That lean to kiss you as you float between While on the lowest branch a bud uncloses A bud uncloses, to touch you, queen. Nay, since you will not love, would I were growing A happy daisy, in the garden path That so your silver foot might press me going Might press me going even unto death. Danny Boy Oh Danny boy, the pipes, the pipes are calling From glen to glen, and down the mountain side 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 here in sunshine or in shadow Oh Danny boy, oh Danny boy, I love you so. And if you come, when all the flowers are dying And I am dead, as dead I well may be You'll come and find the place where I am lying And kneel and say an "Ave" there for me. And I shall hear, tho' soft you tread above me And all my dreams will warm and sweeter be If you'll not fail to tell me that you love me I'll simply sleep in peace until you come to me.