Capo I

B5  A5  B5

   B5             A5                                       B5
If I were King of Ireland's Isle and had all things at my will
                  A5                              B5
I'd roam for recreation and I'd seek for comfort still
                    A5                             B5
The comfort I would ask for, so that you may understand
                       A5                               B5
Is to win the heart of Martha, the Flower of Sweet Strabane

    B5                A5                           B5
Her cheeks they are a ruby red, her hair a lovely brown
                        A5                             B5
And o'er her milk white shoulders it carelessly hangs down
                   A5                                 B5
She is the fairest creature and the pride of all her clan
                     A5                                B5
And my heart is captivated by the flower of Sweet Strabane

     B5               A5                             B5
Well I've been in the Phoenix Park and in Killarney fair
                    A5                               B5
The lovely glens of Antrim and the winding banks of Clare
                  A5                       B5
In all my earthly travels I never yet met one
                           A5                                   B5
That could compare, I do declare, with the Flower of Sweet Strabane

    B5             A5                                  B5
But since I cannot gain her love, no joy there is for me
                   A5                              B5
And I must seek forgetfulness in lands across the sea
                    A5                              B5
Unless she cares to follow me, I swear by my right hand
                      A5                                      B5
McKenna's face you'll ne'er more see, my Flower of Sweet Strabane

       B5                A5                              B5
So its farewell to sweet Derry Quay, New Mills and Waterside
                       A5                     B5
I'll sail out o'er the ocean, whatever may betide
                    A5                             B5
I'll sail away from Derry Quay out by the Isle of Man
                         A5                               B5
And I'll bid farewell to Martha, the Flower of Sweet Strabane