Oh the morn was fair, the sky was clear, no breath came over the sea
When Mary left her highland home and wandered forth with me.
Though flowers decked the mountain side and fragrance filled the vale,
By far the sweetest flower there was the Rose of Allendale.
Sweet Rose of Allendale, sweet Rose of Allendale,
By far the sweetest flower there was the Rose of Allendale.
Where e'er I wandered to the east or to the west and fate began to lour,
A solace still was she to me in sorrow's lonely hour.
Though tempests wrecked my lonely barque and they rent the quivering sails,
One maiden form withstood the storm, was the Rose of Allendale.
Sweet Rose of Allendale, sweet Rose of Allendale,
One maiden form withstood the storm was the Rose of Allendale.
And it's when my fever lips were parched on Africa's burning sands
She whispered hopes of happiness and tales of foreign lands.
My life had been a wilderness, unblessed by fortune's gale,
Had fate not linked my lot to her, sweet Rose of Allendale.
Sweet Rose of Allendale, sweet Rose of Allendale,
Had fate not linked my love to her, sweet Rose of Allendale.