They’re telling me, “He’s betther off.”
And sayin’, “God knows best.”
But, oh, my heart is breakin’
And the wild, wild waves at play
Where the goolden head is buried low,
Close to Manila Bay.
I’m thinkin’ av the roguish eyes
Of tender Irish gray;
They’re tellin’ me, “He’s betther off,”
And, “I’ll thank God some day.”