As I was a-walking
For my recreation
As down by the gardens
I silently strayed
I heard a young maid
Making great lamentation,
Crying, 
Jimmy will be slain in the wars, I'm afraid,
Jimmy will be slain in the wars, I'm afraid.

The blackbirds and thrushes
Sang in the green bushes
The wood-doves and larks
Seemed to mourn for the maid;
And this is the song
That they sang all around her,
They sang:
Jimmy will be slain in the wars, I'm afraid,
Jimmy will be slain in the wars, I'm afraid.

When Jimmy returned
With a flag on his coffin,
They laid his poor body
All dead in his grave;
She cried, I'm forsaken,
My poor heart is broken,
Would that he had never left his fair maid,
Would that he had never left his fair maid.

The blackbirds and thrushes
Sang in the green bushes,
The wood-doves and larks
Seemed to mourn for her:
O would that he had never left!
Would that he had never left . . .