Тональность: A major•
Verse 1
A
If you'll listen, I'll sing you a sweet little song,
Of a flower that's now drooped and dead,
Yet dearer to me, yes, than all of its mates,
E
Tho' each holds aloft its proud
head.
'Twas given to me by a girl that I know,
Since we've met, faith,
A
I've known no repose,
She is dearer by far than the
Bbdim
world's brightest star,
And I call her my wild Irish Rose.
D
E
A
The sweetest flower that grows,
Bbdim
E
A
You may search everywhere,
Bbdim
E
A
But none can compare
B
G#
F
E
With my wild Irish Rose.
A
E
A
Bbdim
My wild Irish Rose,
A
D
E
A
Bbdim
The dearest flower that grows,
E
A
And some day for my sake,
Bbdim
E
A
She may let me take
B
E
F
E
The bloom from my wild Ir ish
A
Bbdim
Rose.
Verse 2
F
They may sing of their roses which,
by other names,
Would smell just as sweetly, they say,
Bb
F
Bb
But I know that my Rose
would never consent
Eb
To have that sweet name taken away.
F
Her glances are shy when e'er I
Bb
Bdim
G
F
Bb
Bdim
pass by
The bower,
F
where my true love grows;
And my one wish has been that
Bb
C
F
F#
F
Bb
some day I may win
B
E
A
The heart of my wild Irish Rose.
E
A
F#
My wild Irish Rose,
A
D
E
A
The sweetest flower that grows,
Bbdim
E
A
You may search everywhere,
Bbdim
E
A
But none can compare
B
Ebdim
E
With my wild Irish Rose.
A
E
A
Bbdim
My wild Irish Rose,
A
D
E
A
Bbdim
The dearest flower that grows,
E
A
And some day for my sake,
Bbdim
E
A
She may let me take
B
E
F
E
The bloom from my wild Ir ish Rose.
Outro 1
A
F
A
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