Listen to the whistling lad,
The whistling lad who pipes his merry lay.
Listen to the whistling lad,
Listen to the whistling lad,
Who whistles where the yellow moonbeams play.
I’m dreaming now of Romey, of Romey, of Romey,
I’m dreaming now of Romey,
And the tender, tender words he spake to me.
To the opera he shall beau me, shall beau me, shall beau me,
To the opera he shall beau me,