The Flower of Sweet Strabane

Three versions of

The Flower of Sweet Strabane

If I were King of Ireland And had all things at my will
I'd roam for recreation More comfort to find still
But the comfort I would seek the most So that you may understand
Would be to win the heart of Martha The Flower of Sweet Strabane

Her cheeks they are as rubies Her hair a dove-soft brown
And o'er her milk white shoulders It carelessly hangs down
She is the fairest creature And the pride of all her clan
And my heart is captivated By the flower of Sweet Strabane

But since I cannot gain her love No joy there is for me
And I must seek to hide my tears In the lands across the sea
Unless she cares to follow me I swear by my right hand
McKenna's face you'll ne'er more see My Flower of Sweet Strabane

two more versions:

If I were King of Ireland's Isle and had all things at my will
I'd roam for recreation and I'd seek for comfort still
The comfort I would ask for, so that you may understand
Is to win the heart of Martha, the Flower of Sweet Strabane
Were I the King of Ireland and had all things at my will,
I would roam for recreation, new comforts to find still,
But the comfort I would look for, you all may understand
Is to win the heart of Martha, she's the Flower of Sweet Strabane.

Her cheeks they are a ruby red, her hair a lovely brown
And o'er her milk white shoulders it carelessly hangs down
She is the fairest creature and the pride of all her clan
And my heart is captivated by the flower of Sweet Strabane
Her cheeks are like the roses red, her hair a lovely brown,
And o'er her milk-white shoulders in ringlets it hangs down,
She's one of the fairest creatures in the whole Milesian clan,
And my heart lies captivated by the Flower of Sweet Strabane.

Well I've been in the Phoenix Park and in Killarney fair
The lovely glens of Antrim and the winding banks of Clare
In all my earthly travels I never yet met one
That could compare, I do declare, with the Flower of Sweet Strabane
I've often been in Phoenix Park and in Killarney fair,
In blithe and bonny Scotland, on the winding banks of Ayr;
But yet in all my travelling I never met that one
That could compare with Martha, the Flower of Sweet Strabane.

But since I cannot gain her love, no joy there is for me
And I must seek forgetfulness in lands across the sea
Unless she cares to follow me, I swear by my right hand
McKenna's face you'll ne'er more see, my Flower of Sweet Strabane
But since I cannot win her love no joy there is for me,
So I will seek forgetfulness in lands across the sea,
And unless you chance to follow me, I swear by my right hand,
MacDonald's face you'll never see, fair Flower of Sweet Strabane.

So its farewell to sweet Derry Quay, New Mills and Waterside
I'll sail out o'er the ocean, whatever may betide
I'll sail away from Derry Quay out by the Isle of Man
And I'll bid farewell to Martha, the Flower of Sweet Strabane

Farewell to bonny Lifford and Mourne's water side,
For now I'm for America whatever may betide;
Sailing down Lough Foyle, brave boys, I'll sadly wave my hand,
And I'll bid Adieu, to Martha, the Flower of Sweet Strabane.

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If I were King of Ireland's Isle and had all things at my will I'd roam for recreation and I'd seek for comfort still The comfort I would ask for, so that you may understand Is to win the heart of Martha, the Flower of Sweet Strabane	Were I the King of Ireland and had all things at my will, I would roam for recreation, new comforts to find still, But the comfort I would look for, you all may understand Is to win the heart of Martha, she's the Flower of Sweet Strabane.
Her cheeks they are a ruby red, her hair a lovely brown And o'er her milk white shoulders it carelessly hangs down She is the fairest creature and the pride of all her clan And my heart is captivated by the flower of Sweet Strabane	Her cheeks are like the roses red, her hair a lovely brown, And o'er her milk-white shoulders in ringlets it hangs down, She's one of the fairest creatures in the whole Milesian clan, And my heart lies captivated by the Flower of Sweet Strabane.
Well I've been in the Phoenix Park and in Killarney fair The lovely glens of Antrim and the winding banks of Clare In all my earthly travels I never yet met one That could compare, I do declare, with the Flower of Sweet Strabane	I've often been in Phoenix Park and in Killarney fair, In blithe and bonny Scotland, on the winding banks of Ayr; But yet in all my travelling I never met that one That could compare with Martha, the Flower of Sweet Strabane.
But since I cannot gain her love, no joy there is for me And I must seek forgetfulness in lands across the sea Unless she cares to follow me, I swear by my right hand McKenna's face you'll ne'er more see, my Flower of Sweet Strabane	But since I cannot win her love no joy there is for me, So I will seek forgetfulness in lands across the sea, And unless you chance to follow me, I swear by my right hand, MacDonald's face you'll never see, fair Flower of Sweet Strabane.
So its farewell to sweet Derry Quay, New Mills and Waterside I'll sail out o'er the ocean, whatever may betide I'll sail away from Derry Quay out by the Isle of Man And I'll bid farewell to Martha, the Flower of Sweet Strabane	Farewell to bonny Lifford and Mourne's water side, For now I'm for America whatever may betide; Sailing down Lough Foyle, brave boys, I'll sadly wave my hand, And I'll bid Adieu, to Martha, the Flower of Sweet Strabane.