Letras
Farewell to you, old Ireland, since I must go away
I now shake hands and bid goodbye and can no longer stay
Our big ship lies in deep Lough Foyle, bound for the New York shore
And I must go from all I know and lovely Monymore
That little town encircled 'round with many's the grove and hill
Where lads and lasses they do meet, for pleasure there's the rule
Through Springhill Braes and flowery
Fields where oft I've wandered o'er
And by my side was the girl I loved, the Rose of Monymore
How lonely is the pigeon's coo and sad the blackbird's lay
And loud and high the thrushes cry on a long bright summer's day
And as I sat down to cry my fill, sure the tears come trickling down
For in the morning I must leave you, my own dear native town
Kind friends, I'll bid you all adieu, I can no longer stay
Our big ship sails tomorrow and it's time I was away
So fill your glasses to the brim and toast with one loud roar
And we'll sing in praise of Springhill Braes and lovely Monymore