Oh as I roved out one bright summer's morn Down by Blackwaterside I'd be gazing on the flowers that did bloom all around When a pretty Irish girl I spied Oh 'twas red and rosy was her cheeks Golden yellow was her hair As I clasped her by the lily-white hand And I said, "My young sweetheart fair" There be many a good man's daughter Going around from town to town There be many a good man's daughter with Her hair all hanging down They'll be rocking the cradles the whole day long Singing, "Low-la, low-la, low" Was there ever a poor misfortunate girl Was as easily led as you? Oh that wasn't the promise that you made to me Down by Blackwaterside That wasn't the promise that you made to me When you asked me to be your bride That wasn't the promise that you made to me When you swore you'd be loyal and true When the fishes fly and the seas run dry I'll return and I'll marry you编辑于2023/05/09更新