THE HILLS OF GLENSWILLY
As recorded by Connie Foley and the Irish Ramblers on Copley 9-133-B (a 78-rpm record, date unknown, found at Internet Archive).

Oh, listen awhile, my countrymen, and hear my native news.
Although my song is sorrowful, I hope you’ll me excuse.
I left my peaceful residence some foreign land to see.
I bid goodbye to Donegal, likewise to Glenswilly.

Brave stalwart men around me stood, each comrade kind and true,
And as I clasped each well-known hand to bid my last adieu,
I said to my fellow countrymen: “I hope you’ll soon be free,
And we’ll proudly raise the green flag over the hills of Glenswilly.

“No more among the sycamore I’ll hear the blackbird sing.
No more to me the blithe cuckoo will welcome back the spring.
No more I’ll see your fertile fields, a chuisle geal mo chroí.
On a foreign soil, I mean to toil afar from Glenswilly.

“God bless you, dear old Donegal, my own dear native land.
In dreams, I ofttimes see your hills and lovely mountains grand.
Alas! Three thousand miles will lie between your hills and me,
A poor forlorn exile tasked afar from Glenswilly.”