Song: The Green Fields Of Canada

Farewell to the groves of shillelagh and shamrock Farewell to the wee girls of old Ireland all 'round May their hearts be as merry as ever I would wish them When far, far away across the ocean I'm bound Oh my father is old, and my mother is quite feeble To leave their own country, it grieves their heart sore Oh the tears in great drops down their cheeks, they are rolling To think they must die upon some 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 And it's there I'll put an end to my miseries and strife So 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 America The sheep run unshorn, and the land's gone to rushes The handyman is gone, and the winders of creels Away across the ocean go journeyman tailors And fiddlers that play out the old mountain reels Farewell to the dances in homes now deserted When tips struck the lightening in sparks from the floor The paving and crigging of hobnails on flagstones The tears of the old folk and shouts of encore For the landlords and bailiffs in vile combination Have forced us from hearth stone and homestead away May the crowbar brigade all be doomed to damnation When we're on the green fields of America And it's now to conclude and to finish my story If e'er friendless Irishmen chance my way With the best in the house I will treat him and welcome At home in the green fields of America 1