As sung by Don Stiffe on YouTube under difficult acoustic conditions. Somebody managed to transcribe almost the whole thing; few words still being elusive. See Question marks.
GROSSE ISLE (songwriter ??)
Just like the stream that flows down from a mountain, just like the snow that melts to the earth, our nation was scattered by greed and dictators. Oh to land in Grosse Isle, to die in the dirt.
Their anguish and pain, they shared their belongings. The landlords that laughed as they took to the surf. These ships were unfit to bring beasts to their slaughter. Oh to land in Grosse Isle, to die in the dirt.
Now their hearts would light up as the new world approached them and weeks out at sea and suffering no more. But lines of these ships ??? But to land in Grosse Isle was to die in the dirt.
In their thousands they died on the island of sorrow Not from the hunger but the feverish curse. They left pillaged behind them in the land they loved dearest But to land in Grosse Isle to die in the dirt.
Now today the same waves flow over the Atlantic And the Irish still cross them with ambition and ??? They don't have to face what those coffin ships sailed to Now if you go to Grosse Isle you won't die in the dirt.
Just like the stream that flows down from a mountain, just like the snow that melts to the earth, our nation was scattered by greed and dictators. Oh to land in Grosse Isle, to die in the dirt.