The Rose Of Allendale

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The moon was bright, the night was clear, no breeze came over the sea  
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When Mary left her highland home and wandered forth with me.  
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The flowers bedecked the mountainside and fragrance filled the vale,  
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But by far the sweetest flower there was the Rose of Allendale.  
  

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Oh the Rose of Allendale, sweet Rose of Allendale  
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By far the sweetest flower there was the Rose of Allendale  

  
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Where e'er I wandered east or west, though fate began to lour,  
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A solace still to me was she, in sorrows lonely hour.  
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When tempests lashed our gallant barque and rent her quivering sails,  
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One maidens form withstood the storm, twas the Rose of Allendale.  
  
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Oh the Rose of Allendale, sweet Rose of Allendale  
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One maidens form withstood the storm, twas the Rose of Allendale.  

  

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And when my fevered lips were parched on Afric's burning sands,  
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She whispered hopes of happiness and tales of distant lands.  
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My life has been a wilderness unblest by fortunes gale;  
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Had fate not linked my love to hers, the Rose of Allendale 

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Oh the Rose of Allendale, sweet Rose of Allendale  
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Had fate not linked my love to hers, the Rose of Allendale