There's a farm in dear old Ireland In a place called sweet Tralee Out in the fields with glee Till poverty it came our way I'm sorry to relate And like many another Irish boy
Chorus: Sailing away from Ireland Leaving the Shamrock shore Crossing the foam from our Irish home The land we do adore Our hearts were sad the weather was bad Which caused our crops to fail And for better or worse we're leaving our curse And poor Granuaile
They say in foreign countries There's a health and wealth galore The darkest hour's before the dawn And brighter days in store We've Irish hearts and willing hands To toil both night and day But we'll not forget the friends we met In Ireland far away
Some day we'll come back again After many years of toil The boys and girls will welcome us Again to dear old Erin's Isle Then Barney Moore will play his pipes As he did in days of yore And we'll dance a good old Irish jig Upon the cabin floor
Collected by Nellie Walsh for the magazine Ireland's Own. MJR
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