Oh gather round me friends, and bend a nimble ear
Let's have a song for her me boys, and one more pint of beer
For woman's heart was made for minstrel hands alone
By other fingers played it yields not half the tone
Drink to her who long hath waked the poet's sigh
The girl who gave to song what gold could never buy
A rich man tried to court her, he showered her with gold
And silver of the finest you ever did behold
But gold paled to sunlight, and silver to the moon
It did not touch her tender heart, it did not make her swoon
Then a song she heard upon the air, a melody so sweet
It played upon her heartstrings, it caused for her to weep
He said to you I wrote this song, and soon a thousand more
Of all the lads she could have had it's him that she adored
The one who seeks a home where wealth and vainness shines
Is but a lonely soul in dark and gloomy pines
But oh the poet's love can boast a brighter sphere
Its native home's above though woman keeps it here