O Danny Boy, the pipes, the pipes are calling
From glen to glen, and down the mountain side.
The summer's gone and all the roses falling;
It's you, it's you must go and I must bide.

 [bad word] ye back when summer's in the meadow,
Or when the valley's hushed and white with snow.
Yes, I'll be here in sunshine or in shadow;
Oh Danny Boy, oh Danny Boy, I love you so!

But when [bad word]  and all the flow'rs are dying,
If I am dead, as dead I well may be.
 [bad word] and find the place where I am lying,
And kneel and say an Ave there for me.

And I shall hear, though soft you tread above me;
And ah my grave will warmer, sweeter be,
For you will bend and tell me that you love me;
And I shall sleep in peace until [bad word] to me!