Come, Darby dear! Easy, be easy,
So be sure, and it may not well please ye;
But she's gone, as I said,
With young Pat to be wed,
And in vain will we fret,
'Till we're crazy.
And troth! He's proper fine creature,
Of mighty good figure and feature,
And our daughter Kitty,
Why she's young and pretty - 
O Darby dear! Is not nature?

They're tied before this, never fear them,
So love and good luck ever cheer them,
And faith in a crack
They'll be all coming back - 
By the virgin! - The Piper!
I hear them.
And it was, and it is always thus now,
So no longer be making a fuss now:
Cross words and uncivil
Och, pitch to the devil!
And give your old woman a buss now.