My main memory of My Wild Irish Rose is hearing my dad sing it and play it on the tenor banjo while my grandpa backed him up on guitar. It was always one of the favorites at the ice cream socials we played when I was a kid.
I recorded today’s fiddle tune at the Tapestry House, the fanciest wedding venue in Fort Collins, where a very fancy photo shoot was taking place.
My Wild Irish Rose may be the penultimate Irish Ballad. It has a great melody, and the chorus begs the listener to join in and sing along. Don’t be afraid to sing along as you listen. 🙂
Learn to play “My Wild Irish Rose” on fiddle here
My Wild Irish Rose from the Contemplator
The lyrics and music to My Wild Irish Rose were written by Chauncey Olcott for his production of A Romance of Athlone. The music was published in 1899.
Chauncey Olcott was born Chanellor John Olcott in Buffalo, New York. He produced several shows about Ireland for the New York stage and was one of the most popular singers, actors and songwriters of his time. His other hits included When Irish Eyes are Smiling.*
My Wild Irish Rose Lyrics
If you’ll listen, I’ll sing you a sweet little song,
Of a flower that’s now drooped and dead,
Yet dearer to me, yes, than all of its mates,
Tho’ each holds aloft its proud head.
‘Twas given to me by a girl that I know,
Since we’ve met, faith, I’ve known no repose,
She is dearer by far than the world’s brightest star,
And I call her my wild Irish Rose.
My wild Irish Rose,
The sweetest flow’r that grows,
You may search ev’rywhere,
But none can compare
With my wild Irish Rose.
My wild Irish Rose,
The dearest flow’r that grows,
And some day for my sake,
She may let me take
The bloom from my wild Irish Rose.
They may sing of their roses which, by other names,
Would smell just as sweetly, they say,
But I know that my Rose would never consent
To have that sweet name taken away.
Her glances are shy when e’er I pass by
The bower, where my true love grows;
And my one wish has been that some day I may win
The heart of my wild Irish Rose.
My wild Irish Rose,
The sweetest flow’r that grows,
You may search ev’rywhere,
But none can compare
With my wild Irish Rose.
My wild Irish Rose,
The dearest flow’r that grows,
And some day for my sake,
She may let me take
The bloom from my wild Irish Rose.
Lovely musical performance !
Thank you, Michael.