The Chieftains - The Green Fields Of America lyrics
[The Chieftains - The Green Fields Of America lyrics]
Farewell to the groves of
Shillelagh and the shamrock
Farewell to the girls of
Old Ireland all 'round
And may their hearts be as merry
As ever they could wish for
As far away o'er the ocean I'm bound
My father is old and
My mother's right feeble
To leave their own country
It would grieve their heart sore
Oh, the tears down their cheeks
In great floods they are rolling
To think that I must die upon
Some far and foreign shore
But what matter to me
Where my bones they may lie buried
If in peace and contentment I
Can spend my life
The green fields of Amerikay
They daily are calling
It's there I'll find an end
To my misery and strife
So pack up your sea stores now
Consider it no longer
Ten dollars a week isn't very bad pay
With no taxes or tithe there
To devour up your wages
Across on the green fields of Amerikay
The lint dams are gone and
The looms are lying idle
Gone are the winders of baskets and creels
And away o'er the ocean
Go journeyman cowboys
And fiddlers who play out
The old mountain reels
Ah, but I mind the time
When old Ireland was flourishing
And most of her tradesmen did
Work for good pay
Ah, but since our manufacturers
Have crossed the Atlantic
Well, it's now that I
Must follow onto Amerikay
And now to conclude and to finish my ditty
If e'er a friendless Irishman
Should happen my way
With the best in the house
I will greet him and welcome him
At home on the green fields of Amerikay
So pack up your sea stores now
Consider it no longer
Ten dollars a week isn't very bad pay
With no taxes or tithe there
To devour up your wages
Across on the green fields of Amerikay
Shillelagh and the shamrock
Farewell to the girls of
Old Ireland all 'round
And may their hearts be as merry
As ever they could wish for
As far away o'er the ocean I'm bound
My father is old and
My mother's right feeble
To leave their own country
It would grieve their heart sore
Oh, the tears down their cheeks
In great floods they are rolling
To think that I must die upon
Some far and foreign shore
But what matter to me
Where my bones they may lie buried
If in peace and contentment I
Can spend my life
The green fields of Amerikay
They daily are calling
It's there I'll find an end
To my misery and strife
So pack up your sea stores now
Consider it no longer
Ten dollars a week isn't very bad pay
With no taxes or tithe there
To devour up your wages
Across on the green fields of Amerikay
The lint dams are gone and
The looms are lying idle
Gone are the winders of baskets and creels
And away o'er the ocean
Go journeyman cowboys
And fiddlers who play out
The old mountain reels
Ah, but I mind the time
When old Ireland was flourishing
And most of her tradesmen did
Work for good pay
Ah, but since our manufacturers
Have crossed the Atlantic
Well, it's now that I
Must follow onto Amerikay
And now to conclude and to finish my ditty
If e'er a friendless Irishman
Should happen my way
With the best in the house
I will greet him and welcome him
At home on the green fields of Amerikay
So pack up your sea stores now
Consider it no longer
Ten dollars a week isn't very bad pay
With no taxes or tithe there
To devour up your wages
Across on the green fields of Amerikay