The Green Fields of Canada

Farewell to the groves of shellelagh and shamrock
Farewell to the girls of old Ireland all round
May their hearts be as merry as ever I would wish them
When far away on the ocean I’m bound
Oh my father is old and my mother’s quite feeble
To leave their own country it grieves their hearts sore
Oh the tears in great drops down their cheeks they are rolling
To think they must die upon a foreign shore
But what matters to me where my bones may be buried
If in peace and contentment I can spend my life
Oh the green fields of Canada they daily are blooming
It’s there I’ll put an end to my miseries and strife.
Then it’s pack up your sea stores and tarry no longer
Ten dollars a week isn’t very bad pay
With no taxes or tithes to devour up your wages
When you’re on the green fields of Amerikay
The sheep run unsheered and the land’s gone to rushes
The handyman’s gone and the winders of creels
Away 'cross the ocean go journeyman tailors
And fiddlers that flaked out the old mountain reels
Ah, but I mind the time when old Ireland was flourishing
When lots of hard tradesmen could work for good pay
But since our manufacturies have crossed the Atlantic
It’s now we must follow to Amerikay
And it’s now to conclude and to finish my ditty
If ever friendless Irishmen chances my way
With the best in the house I will treat him, and welcome
At home on the green fields of Amerikay