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Skibbereen
Oh father dear, I oft-times hear you speak of
Erin's isle
Her lofty hills, her valleys green, her
mountains rude and wild
They say she is a lovely land wherein a saint
might dwell
So why did you abandon her, the reason to me
tell.
Oh son, I loved my native land with energy and
pride
Till a blight came o'er the praties; my sheep,
my cattle died
My rent and taxes went unpaid, I could not them
redeem
And that's the cruel reason why I left old
Skibbereen.
Oh well do I remember that bleak December day
The landlord and the sheriff came to take us all
away
They set my roof on fire with their cursed
English spleen
I heaved a sigh and bade goodbye to dear old
Skibbereen.
Your mother too, God rest her soul, fell on the
stony ground
She fainted in her anguish seeing desolation
'round
She never rose but passed away from life to
immortal dream
She found a quiet grave, me boy, in dear old
Skibbereen.
And you were only two years old and feeble was
your frame
I could not leave you with my friends for you
bore
your father's name
I wrapped you in my cóta mór in the dead of
night unseen
I heaved a sigh and bade goodbye to dear old
Skibbereen.
Oh father dear, the day will come when in answer
to the call
All Irish men of freedom stern will rally one
and all
I'll be the man to lead the band beneath the
flag of green
And loud and clear we'll raise the cheer,
Revenge for Skibbereen!
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