She sat upon an old man’s knee… Begged for a story, “Do, uncle, please.” Why do you roam in Moore Street alone? I had a sweetheart… long, long ago. In Moore Street where she used to dwell… A butcher boy, she loved too well. He courted her, her life away, And now with her, he would not stay. Left her standing in the grand ballroom, Softly the band was playing tunes. She asked for water, sent him away… Came back to find her with another man. Down went the glass.... smashed on the floorboards… He wouldn’t listen when she tried to explain. Pleading, “Hear me,” he turned his back, Left her alone in the cold and the black. She went upstairs to go to bed… Calling to her mother, whispered and said: “Bring me a chair, bring pen and ink…” Don’t! Don’t… After the ball is over, break of dawn Ah! I wish, I wish, I wish in vain! (I wish, I wish, I wish in vain!) After the dance is ended, stars are gone A maid again she'll ne’er be, ’Till apples grow on an ivy tree Many the hopes that vanished… after the ball He broke the door down late that night… Found her hanging in the pale moonlight. Took his knife and he cut her down, And in her pocket these words he found: “Dig my grave large, wide, and deep, Marble stone at my head and feet. In the center, a turtle dove, So the world knows I died of love.” Last night a letter came through the door… Written by the man he saw on the floor. “I was her brother,” the letter ran… Too late to save what he didn’t understand. True to his first love, though she is dead… No home at all, just noise in his head. He broke her heart then, after the ball… (Don’t…) After the ball is over, break of dawn Ah! I wish, I wish, I wish in vain! (I wish, I wish, I wish in vain!) After the dance is ended, stars are gone A maid again she'll ne’er be ’Till apples grow on an ivy tree (Many the hopes that vanished… after the ball) Many years gone by, he wanders alone… In Moore Street where the cold winds blow. Had a sweetheart long ago… Why they weren’t wed, now you know. Cut her down with a butcher’s blade Too proud to hear the plea she made Now he holds the truth inside his hand Written by a dead girl’s brother. Ah! I wish, I wish, I wish in vain! (I wish, I wish, I wish in vain...)
