I wish my love was a red, red ros, growing in yon' garden-fair
And, aye, to be the gardener, of her I would take-care
There's not a month throughout the year that my love I'd renew
I'd garnish her with flowers fine, sweet William, thyme and rue

I wish I was a butterfly, I'd light on my love's breast
And if I was a blue cuckoo, I'd sing my love to rest
And if I was a nightingale, I'd sing the daylight clear
I'd sit and sing for you, Molly, for once I loved you, dear

I wish I was in Dublin Town, and seated on the grass
In my right hand, a jug of punch, and on my knee, a lass
I'd call for liquor freely, and I'd pay before I'd go
I'd roll my Molly in my arms, let the wind blow high or low