'Tis youth and folly
Makes young men marry
So here, my love, I'll
No longer stay.
What can't be cured, sure,
Must be endured, sure,
So I'll go to
Amerikay
My love she's handsome,
My love she's bonny:
She's like good whisky
When it is new;
But when 'tis old
And growing cold
It fades and dies like
The mountain dew.
