Danny came o’er the mountain road;
Danny came down the brae;
Danny went past my mother’s abode –
And took my heart with him away.
Danny aroon!
Danny aroon!
I’ll be alive if you come back soon.

His presence illumined my pathway dark
Like the flash of a falling star;
His dawn-like smile would deceive the lark
That longs for Sol in his golden car.
Danny aroon!
Danny aroon!
Your absence turns to December June.

He gave a smile; I paid with a frown.
My eyes then followed his track
Down the long road that led to the town;
I watched, I wept – but he never looked back.
Danny aroon!
Danny aroon!
Then set my sun, my stars, my moon.

I watch each morn the mountain road;
I watch each eve the town –
If he shuns too long my mother’s abode,
He’ll find none there but my mother to frown.
Danny aroon!
Danny aroon!
Will it be a wake or a honeymoon?

O! softly, gently, glide along,
Ye summer airs, and sweetly croon;
For Mary walks her fields among,
This afternoon.

Now look your best, ye summer flowers,
Your sweetest perfume scatter here,
To gladden ‘mong your blooming bow’rs
My Mary dear.

O! sun beam brightly from on high
Ye rills, make music bland and clear;
Sing o’er her, skylark in the sky-
O’er Mary dear.

And all ye sylvan songsters, sing,
Your finest melodies repeat;
Till all the woods with welcome ring
For Mary sweet.

When Mary sings on summer eves,
The songbirds furl their little wings,
And listen ‘mong the trembling leaves-
When Mary sings.

O! Mary, empress of my heart,
No wonder the departing sun,
To kiss thee lingers, sloth to part
My darling one.

Fame cannot tempt me up its ladder; `
I scorn the wreaths of Honour’s brow;
Gold has no power to make me gladder
Than I am now.
For I have found the prize of prizes;
The boon that can’t be sold or bought.
I taste on earth what paradise is –
Love in a cot.

Search deep, ye dry and solemn sages!
Rush fast, ye crowds! At Mammon’s call;
Ambition! Climb’ and win your wages –
A final fall.
But I’ll not climb, nor search, nor hurry;
For I have found the key of bliss –
The cure of care and pain and worry –
True love it is.

Our cot is humble; you may reckon
No bankers know that we exist;
No jewels has my love her neck on,
Or breast or wrist.
But we have found the rarest jewel –
A gem that can’t be sold or bought;
A happy fireside’s precious fuel –
Love in a cot.