Far away from Erin's Strand and Valleys wide and sounding Waters,
Still she is, in every land, one of Erin's real daughters;
Oh, to meet her here is like a dream of home and natal mountains,
On our hearts their voices strike, we hear the gushing of their fountains.
Yes! our Irish Mary dear! our real Irish Mary!

Round about us here we see bright eyes like hers, and sunny faces,
Charming all! if all were free of foreign airs, of borrowed graces.
Mary's eye it flashes truth! and Mary's spirit, Mary's nature,
Irish Lady, fresh in youth, have dream'd o'er every look and feature,
Yes! our Irish Mary dear, when la Tournaure doth make us weary,
We have you to turn onto for native grace, our Irish Mary.

Sighs of Home! her Erin's songs o'er all their songs we love to listen,
Tears of home! her Erin's wrongs subdue our kindred eyes to glisten,
Oh! should woe to gloom consign the clear forside of love and honor,
You will see a holier side of Irish Mary bright upon her!
Yes, our Irish Mary dear, will light that home, though e'er so dreary,
Shining still o'er clouds of ill, sweet star of life, our Irish Mary.