Mary From Dungloe

So fair ye well sweet Donegal,
The Rosses and Gweedore,
I’m the crossing main ocean,
Where the plunging bellows roar.
It breaks my heart for us to part,
Where I spent many happy days,
Far away from friends and relations,
I’m bound for Amerikay.
Now Mary, she’s my heart’s delight,
My joy, and only care,
It was her cruel father,
Who would not let me stay there.
But absence makes, the heart grow fond,
And when I’m o’er the main,
May the Lord protect my darling girl,
'Till I return again.
I wish I was in sweet Dungloe,
All seated on the grass,
And by my side, a bottle,
And on my knee a lass.
I’d call for liquor, of the best,
And I’d pay before I go,
And I roll my Mary in my arms,
I the town of sweet Dungloe.