I’ll Tell Me Ma

The origins of “I’ll Tell Me Ma” are somewhat obscured by its long history in the oral tradition, but the song is widely regarded as one of the most enduring and popular examples of Irish folk music. Believed to have originated in the 19th century, the song is closely associated with Belfast, as suggested by its alternate title, “The Belle of Belfast City.” However, similar versions of the song have been found across Ireland and even parts of England, reflecting its broad appeal and adaptability.

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The song’s playful lyrics depict the lighthearted teasing and gossip surrounding a young woman admired for her beauty and charm. The repetitive, call-and-response structure makes it ideal for communal singing, which has contributed to its popularity at social gatherings, pub sessions, and céilís.

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“I’ll Tell Me Ma” has been recorded by numerous artists over the years, from traditional folk groups to contemporary performers. The Dubliners, Van Morrison, and The Young Dubliners are among the many who have brought the song to global audiences. Its simple, cheerful melody and universal themes of youth, beauty, and courtship ensure its continued relevance as a staple of Irish music traditions.

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I’ll tell me ma when I get home The boys won’t leave the girls alone Pulled me hair, stole me comb But that’s alright till I go home She is handsome, she is pretty She is the belle of Dublin city She is a-courting, a-one, two, three Pray, can you tell me who is she?

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Albert Mooney says he loves her All the boys are fightin’ for her Knock at the door, they ring on the bell; “Hello, me true love, are you well?”

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Out she comes, white as snow Rings on her fingers, bells on her toes Ol’ Jenny Morrissey says she’ll die If she doesn’t get the fella with the rovin’ eye

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Let the wind and the rain and the hail blow high And the snow come travelling through the sky She’s as sweet as apple pie She’ll get her own lad by and by

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When she gets a lad of her own She won’t tell her ma when she gets home Let them all come as they will It’s Albert Mooney she loves still

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Tell me ma when I get home The boys won’t leave the girls alone Pulled me hair, stole me comb But that’s alright till I get home

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She is handsome, she is pretty She is the belle of Dublin city She is a-courting, a-one, two, three Pray, can you tell me who is she?