Farewell to you old Ireland since I must go away I now shake hands and bid goodbye and can no longer stay Our big ship lies in deep Lough Foyle bound for the New York shore And I must go from all I know and lovely Moneymore
That little town encircled round with many's the grove and hill Where lads and lassies they do meet for pleasure there's the rule Through Springhill Braes and flowery fields where oft I've wandered o'er And by my side was the girl I loved the rose of Moneymore
How lonely is the pigeon's coo and sad the blackbirds lay And loud and high the thrushes cry on a long bright summer's day And as I sat down to cry me fill sure the tears come trickling down For in the morning I must leave you my own dear native town
Kind friends I'll bid you all adieu I can no longer stay Our big ship sails tomorrow and its time I was away So fill your glasses to the brim and toast with one loud roar And we'll sing in praise of Springhill Braes and lovely MoneymoreTeksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
