Skibberreen

Oh father dear, I oft-times 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?

The reason to me tell

My son, I loved my native land with energy and pride

Till a blight came over all my crops and my sheep and cattle died

The rent and taxes were to pay, I could not them redeem

And that's the cruel reason why I left old Skibbereen

'Tis well I do remember the bleak November day