Traditional, transcribed from the Bothy Band's version on Bothy Band 1975, which is lyrically identical to that on their BBC Radio One Live album.


Do you love an apple, do you love a pear,
Do you love a laddie with curly brown hair?
Oh still I love him, I can't deny him,
I'll be with him wherever he goes.

Before I got married I wore a black shawl,
But since I got married I wore bugger-all.
But still I love him, I can't deny him.
I'll be with him wherever he goes.

He stood at the corner, a fag in his mouth.
Two hands in his pockets, he whistled me out.
But still I love him, I can't deny him.
I'll be with him wherever he goes.

He works at the pier for nine bob a week,
Come Saturday night he comes rolling home drunk.
But still I love him, I can't deny him.
I'll be with him wherever he goes.

Before I got married I'd sport and I'd play,
But now the cradle it gets in me way.
But still I love him, I can't deny him.
I'll be with him wherever he goes.

Do you love an apple, do you love a pear,
Do you love a laddie with curly brown hair?
Oh still I love him, I can't deny him,
I'll be with him wherever he goes.



I've stuck faithfully with the Bothies' version, but as with any traditional song, there are a number of versions of this lyric out there. Some have the third verse in the present tense, which makes more sense. Some have "rowing" for "rolling" in the fourth verse, which is really a toss-up. I like 'em both about equally on their own intrinsic merits, but "rolling" evokes "I rowed down the gutter to the blood bank" from "Shore Leave" by Tom Waits. On the other hand, whatever's good enough for [Bothies' clavinettist/singer] Tríona Ni Domhnaill is more than good enough for me, so I'm sticking with her version.

This is one of the tracks on Bothy Band 1975 which is not marred by fiddler Tommy Peoples' flash nonsense (he only got out of hand on the dance tunes, and he left after that record anyway), and in fact there's not much to choose between that and the BBC Radio One Live version. Collect 'em all, kids! Both are glorious: Anything is glorious if Tríona sings it. Holy crap, can she sing or what?

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