作词 : Traditional 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 boundMy 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 AmerikayThe 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 AtlanticWell, it's now that I must follow onto AmerikayAnd 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 AmerikaySo 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
作词 : Traditional 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 boundMy 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 AmerikayThe 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 AtlanticWell, it's now that I must follow onto AmerikayAnd 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 AmerikaySo 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
