It's a Percy French song called "The Emigrant's Letter".

See here!

---

Thread #9501   Message #61674
Posted By: alison
07-Mar-99 - 12:10 AM
Thread Name: Songs of emigration
Subject: Lyr Add: THE EMIGRANT'S LETTER (Percy French)^^

Hi,


THE EMIGRANT'S LETTER
Percy French

Dear Danny, I'm taking the pen in my hand,
To tell you we're just out of sight of the land,
In the grand Allen liner I'm sailing in style,
But I'm sailing away from the Emerald Isle.
And a long sort of sigh seemed to come from us all
When the waves hit the last bit of auld Donegal,
Ah, it's well to be you that is taking your tay (tea),
Where' they're cutting the corn in Creeslough (Creesh-la) today.

There's a woman on board who knows Katie by sight,
And we talked of auld times 'til they put out the light.
I'm to meet the good woman tomorrow on deck,
And we'll talk about Katie from here to Quebec,
I know I'm no match for her, no not the least
With her house and two cows, and her brother a priest.
But the woman declares Katie's heart's on the say (sea),
While mine's with the reaper's in Creeslough today.

Ah, goodbye to you Danny, no more's to be said,
And I think the salt water's got into my head,
For it drips from my eyes when I call to my mind
The friends and the colleagues I'm leaving behind.
But still she might wait. When I bade her goodbye
There was just the least trace of a tear in her eye,
And a brake in her voice when she said, "You might stay,
But, please God you'll return to auld Creeslough, some day."


Slainte
alison

---

Thread #9501   Message #61758
Posted By: Brakn
07-Mar-99 - 04:12 PM
Thread Name: Songs of emigration
Subject: Lyr Add: The Emigrant's Letter (2 more verses)^^

Alison, here's two more verses.

I spoke to the captain, he won't turn her round
And if I swam back, I'd be apt to be drowned
So here I must stay, oh I've no cause to fret
The dinner was what you might call a banquet
But though it was "sumpchus", I'd swop the whole lot
For the ould wooden spoon and the stir-about pot
And sweet Katey Farrell awettin' the tae
Where they're cuttin' the corn in Creeshla the day

If Katey is courted by Patsey or Mick
Put a word in for me, with a lump of a stick
Don't kill Patsey outright, he has no sort of chance
But Mickey's a rogue, you might murder at once
For Katey might think as the longer she waits
A boy in the hand is worth two in the States
And she'll promise to honour, to love and obey
Some robber that's roamin' round Creeshla the day

Regards Mick Bracken