Copyright, 1884, by Wm. A. Pond & Co.
Words by Ed. Harrigan. Music by Dave Braham.
Oh, the love that is burning in my bosom.
Oh, sure my heart's filled with bitter melancholy.
For it's you've won me o'er, and I can't say no more,
Than to promise for to be your true love, Molly.
I'll say the word, you must not pine,
Oh, you may call me thine,
Oh, I promise to be your true love, Molly.
Oh, the nights they were dreary for me, darling!
Oh. sure, my love, I thought nothing else but folly;
For awake or asleep, oh, my secret I'd keep
While a-praying that you'd call me your own Molly.-Chorus.
Sure, my heart It was drooping down with sorrow.
Oh, at no time was I really ever jolly,
For my heart's not grown cold, and I'll wear your ting of gold,
I an longing that you'd call me your own Molly. Chorus