Way up in the north in old Tyrone, there's a pretty little girl I call my own, sweet as rose, islands ever grown.
And sure as the moon and stars above, falling head over heels in love, the pretty little girl from Beaumont, in the county of Tyrone.
There's cute little girls in Old Strabane, they're just as pretty in Monaghan, this to every roving eye is known.
But I guess that I'd be out of bounds, cause somewhere between those northern towns, there's a pretty little girl from Beaumont, in the county of Tyrone.
She wears my ring and tells her friends she's gonna marry me, best of all she tells them all she's happy as can be, oh lucky me.
Well I don't know what you've done to me, but there's nothing else that my eyes can see, pretty little girl from Beaumont, in the county of Tyrone.
It was down in the south in old Tramore, I recall that yellow dress she wore, she walked along the shore there all alone.
And I guess that was my lucky day when she came there on her holiday, pretty little girl from Beaumont, in the county of Tyrone.
She wears my ring and tells her friends she's gonna marry me, best of all she tells them all she's happy as can be, oh lucky me.
Well I don't know what you've done to me, but there's nothing else that my eyes can see, pretty little girl from Beaumont, in the county of Tyrone.
That pretty little girl from Beaumont, in the county of Tyrone.
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