If I were King of Erin's Isle and all things at my will I'd roam all through creation, new fortunes to find still And the fortune I would seek the most you all must understand Is to win the heart of Martha, the Flower of Sweet Strabane.
Her cheeks they are a rosy red, her hair golden brown And o'er her lily-white shoulders it carelessly falls down She's one of the loveliest creatures of the whole creation planned And my heart is captivated by the Flower of Sweet Strabane.
If I had you lovely Martha away in Inishowen Or in some lonesome valley in the wild woods of Tyrone I would use my whole endeavor and I'd try to work my plan For to gain my prize and to feast my eyes on the Flower of Sweet Strabane.
Oh, I'll go o'er the Lagan down by the steam ships tall I'm sailing for America across the briny foam My boat is bound for Liverpool down by the Isle of Man So I'll say farewell, God bless you, my Flower of Sweet Strabane.