Red is the rose (traditional)

{title: Red is the rose}
{artist: traditional}
Come [C]over the [Am]hills, my [Dm]bonny Irish [G]lass
Come [C]over the [Am]hills to your [F]dar-[G]ling;
[F]You choose the [C]rose, love, [Dm]and I’ll make the [F]vow
[G7]And [C]I’ll be your [F]true love for-[G7]-e—[C]ver.
[C]Red is the [Am]rose that in [Dm]yonder garden [G]grows,
And [C]fair is the [Am]lily of the [F]val-[G]ley;
[F]Clear is the [C]water that [Dm]flows from the [F]Boyne
[G7]But [C]my love is [F]fairer than [G7]a—[C]ny.
[C]’Twas down by Kil[Am]larney’s green [Dm]woods that we [G]strayed
And the [C]moon and the [Am]stars they were [F]shi-[G]ning;
The [F]moon shone its [C]rays on her [Dm]locks of golden [F]hair
[G7]And she [C]swore she’d be [F]my love for-[G7]-e—[C]ver.
[C]It’s not for the [Am]parting that [Dm]my sister [G]pains
It’s [C]not for the [Am]grief of my [F]mo-[G]ther,
it´s [F]all for the [C]loss of my [Dm]bonny Irish [F]lass
[G7]That [C]my heart is [F]breaking for-[G7]-e—[C]ver.

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