Her cheek has the sea shell's pale delicate hue,
And her lips are like rose leaves just bathed in the dew;
So, then, don't venture near her, be warned by me,
For she's mighty desthructive, this Rose of Tralee.
Oh! her eyes of dark blue, they so heavenly are
Like the night sky of summer, an' each holds a star;
Were her tongue mute as silence, man's life they'd control;
But eyes an' tongue both are too much for one's soul.
Young men, stay at home, then, and leave her to me,
For I'd die with delight for the Rose of Tralee.