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My Wild Irish Rose  Chauncy Olcott 1899

Chancellor "Chauncey" Olcott (July 21, 1858 - March 18, 1932) was an American stage actor and songwriter.
 Born in Buffalo, New York, in the early years of his career Olcott sang in minstrel shows and Lillian Russell played a major role in helping make him a Broadway star. Amongst his songwriting accomplishments, Olcott wrote and composed the song "My Wild Irish Rose" for his production of "A Romance of Athlone" in 1899. Olcott also wrote the lyrics to "When Irish Eyes Are Smiling" for his production of "The Isle O' Dreams" in 1912.
 He retired to Monte Carlo and died there in 1932. His body was brought home and interred in the Woodlawn Cemetery in The Bronx.
 His life story was told in the 1947 Warner Bros. motion picture "My Wild Irish Rose" starring Dennis Morgan as Olcott.
 In 1970, Olcott was posthumously inducted into the Songwriters Hall of Fame. (INFO from Wikipedia)


If you'll listen, I'll sing you a sweet little song,
 Of a flower that's now drooped and dead,
 Yet dearer to me, yes, than all of its mates,
 Tho' each holds aloft its proud head.
 'Twas given to me by a girl that I know,
 Since we've met, faith, I've known no repose,
 She is dearer by far than the world's brightest star,
 And I call her my wild Irish Rose.
 CHORUS
       C
 My wild Irish Rose,
        F                                C
 The sweetest flow'r that grows,
                G7               C
 You may search ev'rywhere,
        G7                  C                    D7           G
 But none can compare with my wild Irish Rose.
 
       C
 My wild Irish Rose,
         F                             C
 The dearest flow'r that grows,
                  G7              C
 And some day for my sake,
        G7               C             F                 C    D7    G      C    
 She may let me take the bloom from my wild Irish Rose.
 

 They may sing of their roses which, by other names,
 Would smell just as sweetly, they say,
 But I know that my Rose would never consent
 To have that sweet name taken away.
 Her glances are shy when e'er I pass by
 The bower, where my true love grows;
 And my one wish has been that some day I may win
 The heart of my wild Irish Rose.
 My wild Irish Rose,
 The sweetest flow'r that grows,
 You may search ev'rywhere,
 But none can compare
 With my wild Irish Rose.
 My wild Irish Rose,
 The dearest flow'r that grows,
 And some day for my sake,
 She may let me take
 The bloom from my wild Irish Rose.
 


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