[Lyric] Greenfields of Canada (Tinsmith)

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 ’cross the ocean I'm bound

Oh, my father is old and my mother quite feeble
To leave their own country it grieves their heart sore
Oh, the tears in great drops down their cheeks they are rolling
To think they must die upon some foreign shore

But what matter to me where my bones may be buried
If in peace and contentment I can spend my life
For the green fields of Canada, they daily are blooming
It's there I’ll put an end to my misery and strife

So it's pack up your seastores and tarry 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 Amerikay

The sheep run unshorn and the land's gone to rushes
The handyman's gone and the winders of creels
Away 'cross the ocean, good journeyman tailors
And fiddlers who played out the old mountain reels
Ah, and I mind the time when old Ireland was flourishing
When lots of her tradesmen could work for good pay
But since our manufactories have crossed the Atlantic
It's now we must follow to Amerikay

And it’s now to conclude and to finish my ditty
If ever friendless Irishman chances my way
To the best in the house I will treat him, and welcome
At home on the green fields of Amerikay