Oh [e] father dear, and I often hear
You [C] speak of Erin’s isle
Her [C] lofty scenes, her [G] valleys green,
Her [G] mountains [D] rude and [e] wild
They [C] say she is a [G] lovely land
Where[G]in a [D] prince might [e] dwell
Then [D] why did you [e] abandon her,
O, The [C] reason to me [e] tell.
Oh son, I loved my native land
With energy and pride
Till a blight came o’er all my crops;
And my sheep and cattle died
The rent and taxes were to pay,
And I could not them redeem
And that’s the cruel reason
Why I left old Skibereen.
’tis well I do remember
That 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 Skibereen
O, your mother too, God rest her soul,
Fell 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 Skibereen
O, 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
I heaved a sigh and bade goodbye
To dear old Skibereen.
Oh father dear, and the day will come
When on vengeance we will call
All Irish men both stout and tall
Will rally on to 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 Skibereen!
