I’m in love with a charming young girl,
She’s the prettiest of Irish cailíns.
In figure and style, sure she’s perfect
Oh then yet she’s not out of her teems [teens].
Oh the glance of her eye is so coaxing,
She sets my poor heart in a whirl.
And her lips like the rosebud in summer
This beautiful young Irish girl.

Oh Maggie Malone, sure I’m longing to call you my own.
There is no queen on her throne can equal you Maggie Malone.
Oh darling a-hone, you must have a heart like a stone,
For I’m moaning and sighing and sobbing and crying;
Will you marry me Maggie Malone?

Oh each night when she sits to her spinning,
She then rests on the tune of her wheel.
But my heart to keeps time with each motion,
She’s a darling in paint sure I feel.
I’ve a farm of land and a cottage
And in money in plenty I owe.
But the one only wish of my heart is
To share it all with you, Maggie Malone.

Oh Maggie Malone, sure I’m longing to call you my own.
There is no queen on her throne can equal you Maggie Malone.
Oh darling a-hone, you must have a heart like a stone,
For I’m moaning and sighing and sobbing and crying;
Will you marry me Maggie Malone?

"One of the many hundreds of untraceable, popular Irish love songs, probably written in the early to mid part of the 20th century."
Jim Carroll