If I were King of Ireland and all things at my will
I'd roam through all creation, new comforts to find still
And the comfort I would seek the most as you might

understand
Is to win the heart of Martha, the Flower of Sweet
Strabane.

Her cheeks they are a rosy red, her hair a lovely brown
And o'er her lily-white shoulders it carelessly hangs
down

She's one of the fairiest creatures in the whole of
Ireland
And my heart it's captivated by the Flower of Sweet

Strabane.
If I had you lovely Martha away in Inishowen
Or in some lonesome valley in the wild woods of Tyrone

I would use my whole endeavor to try to work my plan
For to gain the prize and feast my eyes on the Flower of
Sweet Strabane.

And I'll go o'er the Lagan down by the steam ships tall
I'm sailing for America whatever may be fall
My boat is bound for Liverpool right by the Isle of Man

So I'll say farewell, God bless you, my Flower of Sweet
Strabane.