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Skibbereen
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Bardic
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1
Oh, Father dear, I oft times hear you talk of Erin's Isle,
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Her lofty scene, her valleys green, her mountains rude and wild
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They say it is a pretty place where in a prince might dwell,
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Oh, why did you abandon it, the reason to me tell?
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Oh, son I loved my native land with energy and pride
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'Til a blight came over on my crops, my sheep and cattle died,
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The rent and taxes were so high, I could not them redeem,
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And that's the cruel reason why I left old Skibbereen.
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Oh, It's well I do remember that bleak December day,
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The landlord and the sheriff came to drive us all away
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They set my roof on fire with their demon yellow spleen
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And that's another reason why I left old Skibbereen.
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Your mother too, God rest her soul, fell on the snowy ground,
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She fainted in her anguish seeing the desolation round.
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She never rose but passed away from life to mortal dream,
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She found a quiet grave, my boy, in dear old Skibbereen.
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And you were only two years old and feeble was your frame,
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I could not leave you with your friends, you bore your father's name,
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I wrapped you in my cóta mór in the dead of night unseen
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I heaved a sigh and said goodbye to dear old Skibbereen
The Dubliners: Skibbereen HQ
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