Skibbereen

Oh father dear, and I often hear you speak of Erin's isle
Her lofty scenes, her valleys green, her mountains rude and wild
They say it is a lovely land wherein a prince might dwell
Then, why did you abandon it?
Oh, the reason to me, tell

My son, I loved my native land with energy and pride
'Til a blight came over all my crops and my sheep and cattle died
The rents and taxes were to pay, and I could not them redeem
And that's the cruel reason I left old Skibbereen

'Tis well do I remember the bleak November day
When the bailiff and the landlord came to drive us all away
They set the roof on fire with their cursed English spleen
And that's another reason I left old Skibbereen

Oh, your mother too, God rest her soul, lay on the snowy ground
She fainted in her anguishing, seeing the desolation 'round
She never rose but passed away from life to immortal dreams
And that's another reason I left old Skibbereen

Oh, 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 at the dead of the night unseen
And I heaved a sigh and I said goodbye to dear old Skibbereen

Oh well, father dear, and the day will come when in vengeance we will call
And Irish men, both stout and tall, will rally unto the call
I'll be the man to lead the band beneath the flag of green
And loud and high, we'll raise the cry, "Revenge for Skibbereen!"