Where the pools are bright and deep,
Where the gray trout lies asleep,
Up the river and o'er the lea,
That's the way for Billy and me.

Where the blackbird sings the latest,
Where the hawthorn blooms the sweetest,
Where the nestlings chirp and flee,
That's the way for Billy and me.

Where the mowers mow the cleanest,
Where the hay lies thick and greenest;
There to trace the homeward bee,
That's the way for Billy and me.

Where the hazel bank is steepest,
Where the shadow falls the deepest,
Where the clustering nuts fall free,
That's the way for Billy and me.

Why the boys should drive away
Little sweet maidens from the play,
Or love to banter and fight so well,
That's the thing I never could tell.

But this I know, I love to play,
Through the meadow, among the hay;
Up the water and o'er the lea,
That's the way for Billy and me.

This one night, this one night,
Every night and all,
Fire and sleet and candlelight,
And Christ receive thy soul.

When thou from hence away hast passed,
Every night and all,
To Whinny-moor thou com’st at last,
And Christ receive thy soul.

If ever thou gavest hose and shoes,
Every night and all,
Sit thee down and put them on,
And Christ receive thy soul.

If hose and shoes thou never gav’st none,
Every night and all,
The gorse will scratch thee to the bone,
And Christ receive thy soul.

From Whinny-moor whence thou may’st pass,
Every night and all,
To Bridge of Dread thou com’st at last,
And Christ receive thy soul.

If ever thou gav’st silver and gold,
Every night and all,
At Bridge of Dread thou’lt find foothold,
And Christ receive thy soul.

But if silver and gold thou never gav’st none,
Every night and all,
Down thou tumblest to Hell’s flame,
And Christ receive thy soul.

From Bridge of Dread whence thou may’st pass,
Every night and all,
To Purgatory fire thou com’st at last,
And Christ receive thy soul.

If ever thou gav’st meat or drink,
Every night and all,
The fire shall never make thee shrink,
And Christ receive thy soul.

If meat or drink thou never gav’st none,
Every night and all,
The fire will burn thee to the bone,
And Christ receive thy soul.

If ever thou gav’st man or woman good day,
Every night and all,
The fire will never make thee flay,
And Christ receive thy soul.

If man or woman thou never gav’st good day,
Every night and all,
The fire will burn thee to the clay,
And Christ receive thy soul.

This one night, this one night,
Every night and all,
Fire and sleet and candlelight,
And Christ receive thy soul.