There's a wound in my spirit, 
No balm can e'er heal; 
In my soul is a sorrow, 
No voice can reveal. 

And deeper the furrows 
Will sink on my brow, 
For Annie, my own love, 
Is gone from me now.

Like the moon to the twilight 
She came to my heart, 
And fondly she told me 
We never should part; 

By Death, unrelenting, 
She's freed from her vow, 
And Annie, my own love, 
Is gone from me now.

Like the night when the moonbeam 
Is gone from the sky, 
In the gloom of my sorrow 
Heart-broken I lie: 

Oh! seek not to soothe me, 
To earth let me bow, 
For Annie, my own love, 
Is gone from me now.