Now he's brought down the rain
and the Indian summer is through.
In the morning you'll be following your trail again -
fair play to you.
You're ain't calling me to join you,
and I'm spoken for anyway.
But I will cry when ye go away.
I will cry when ye go away.
Your beauty is familiar,
and your voice is like a key;
it opens up my soul
and torches up a fire inside of me.
Your coat is made of magic,
and around your table angels play.
I will cry when ye go away.
I will cry when ye go away.
Somebody left us whiskey
and the night is very young.
I've got some to say and more to tell,
and the words will soon be spilling from my tongue.
I will rave and I will ramble
I'll to everything but make you stay.
Then I will cry when ye go away.
I will cry when ye go away.
I will cry when ye go away
I will cry when ye go away.