The Green Fields of Canada - Paddy Tunney
Farewell to the groves of shillelagh and shamrock
Farewell to the girls of old Ireland all round
May their hearts be as merry as ever I would wish them
When far away on the ocean I'm bound
My mother is old and my father quite feeble
To leave their own country it grieves them full sore
Oh the tears down their cheeks
In great drops they are rolling
To think they must die upon a 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're daily a-blooming
That I'll find an end to my misery and strife
So it's pack up your sea stores
And consider 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 unsheared
And the land's gone to rushes
The handyman's gone and the winder of creels
Away over the ocean go journeyman tailors
And fiddlers who flaked out the old mountain reels
But sure I mind the time
When old Ireland was flourishing
When lots of our tradesmen did work for good pay
But since out manufacturies have crossed the Atlantic
Sure now we must follow to America
So it's pack up your sea stores
And consider 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
And it's now to conclude and to finish my ditty
If ever friendless Irishmen chances my way
With the best in the house
I will greet him and welcome
At home on the green fields of America
So pack up your sea stores
And consider 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
