the turbaned Turk who scorns the world
May strut about with his whiskers curled
For nobody else but himself to see
Yet long may he pray with
Before he can love like an Irishman
Dum -dum -a -diddly -dum -a -dum
The gay Monsieur, a slave no more
The solemn Don and the soft Signore
The Dutchmine here so full of pride
The Russian, Prussian, Swede beside
They all may do whatever they can,
But they'll never ever love
They all may do whatever they can,
But they'll never ever love
Dum -dum -a -dee -me -dum -a -dum.
Now the London folks them
And think they please in a capital style.
Yet let them ask as they cross the streets
Of any young girl that they
Nobody loves like an Irishman
Nobody loves like an Irishman
Hey dum -dum -a -ding -a -dum -a -dum
So I want you to know just
And the rest of my life with you I'd share
I love your face, your hair, your smile
It's just as sure as I come
It must be clear to your lovely eye
Nobody will love you better than I
Nobody will love you better than I
Dum -dum -a -dee -me -dum -a -dum
Dum -dum -a -dee -me -dum -a -dum
Dum -dum -a -dee -me -dum -a -dum
Dum -dum -a -dee -me -dum -a -dum