1.
The "whippoorwill" sang for mate in the grove,
And the night-winds were wafting the strains of his love;
The moon kept her watch o'er the lands, o'er the sea.
And her beams kissed the sweet face of Anna Marye!

[CHORUS]
I sat at her feet and I gazed on her face
And no stain of the earth on its features could trace;
Like the stars up above shone that fair brow to me,
Not a moon beam looked gentler than Anna Marye!

2.
Oh! her eye it smiles kindly on all it looks on.
And her voice oh! how softly bewitching in tone;
Her heart is a treasure which peerless will be,
To him who shall win the sweet Anna Marye!

[CHORUS]
O'er all the wide world if there can be one found
To bring tears to those eyes, or that bosom to wound;
How lost to all good and how hardened must be
The heart that could harm thee, sweet Anna Marye!

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