Historic Sheet Music Collection


Samuel Lover

Document Type


Publication Date



Widow Machree
Sung with enthusiasm and applause by Mr. Collins
Written and composed by Samuel Lover

Philadelphia. Published by A. Fiot 196 Chestnut St.

Some of the resources may contain offensive language or negative stereotypes. Such materials should be seen in the context of the time period and as a reflection of attitudes of the time. The items are part of the historical record, and do not represent the views of the libraries or the institution.


Sportively but not too fast

Widow Machree 'tis no wonder you frown,
Och hone! Widow Machree!
Faith it ruins you looks
that same dirty black gown.
Och hone! Widow Machree! How alter'd your air,
With that close cap you wear,
'Tis destroying your hair
That should be flowing free,
Be no longer a churl
Of its black silken curl,
Och bone! Widow Machree.

Widow Machree now the summer is come
Och hone! Widow Machree!
When ev'rything smiles should a beauty look glum.
Och bone! Widow Machree
See the birds go in pairs
And the rabbits and hares
Why even the bears now in couples agree,
And the mute little fish
Tho' they can't spake, they wish
Och hone! Widow Machree

Widow Machree, and when winter comes in,
Och hone, Widow Machree,
To me poking the fire all alone is a sin,
Och hone! Widow Machree.
Why the shovel and tongs
To each other belongs,
And the kettle sings songs
Full of family glee;
While alone with your cup,
Like a hermit you sup,
Och hone! Widow Machree.

And how do you know, with the comforts I've towld,
Och home! Widow Machree,
But you're keeping some poor fellow out in the cowld,
Och hone! Widow Machree.
With such sins on your head,
Sure your peace would be fled,
Could you sleep in your bed
Without thinking to see
Some ghost or some sprite,
That would wake you each night,
Crying, Och hone! Widow Machree.

Then take my advice, darling Widow Machree,
Och hone! Widow Machree.
And with my advice, faith I wish you'd take me,
Och hone! Widow Machree.
You'd have me to desire
Then to stir up the fire;
And sure Hope is no liar
In whispering to me
That the ghosts would depart,
When you'd me near my heart,
och hone! Widow Machree.



The views expressed in this paper are solely those of the author.