Skibereen - Irish Stew of Sindidun

Oh, father dear, I ofttimes hear you speak of Erin’s Isle

Her lofty scenes, her valleys green, her mountains rude and wild

They say it`s a lovely land wherein a prince might dwell

Then why did you abandon her, the reason to me tell

My son, I loved my native land with energy and pride

Then a blight came over all my crops and my sheep and cattle died

The rents and taxes were to pay, I could not them redeem

And that’s the cruel reason I left old Skibereen

How 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

Your mother, too, God rest her soul, lay 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

Oh 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 cota mor at the dead of the night unseen

And I heved a sigh and I said goodbye to dear old Skibereen

Oh father dear the day will come when on vengeance we will call

And Irishmen both stout and tall will rally unto the call

I`ll be the man to lead the van beneath the flag of green

And loud and high we will raise the cry revenge for Skibereen