Braes Of Moneymore - Patrick Street

Farewell to you old Ireland since I must go away

I now shake hands and bid goodbye and can no longer stay

Our big ship lies in deep Lough Foyle bound for the New York shore

And I must go from all I know and lovely Moneymore

That little town encircled round with many’s the grove and hill

Where lads and lassies they do meet for pleasure there’s the rule

Through Springhill Braes and flowery fields where oft I’ve wandered o’er

And by my side was the girl I loved the rose of Moneymore

How lonely is the pigeon’s coo and sad the blackbirds lay

And loud and high the thrushes cry on a long bright summer’s day

And as I sat down to cry me fill sure the tears come trickling down

For in the morning I must leave you my own dear native town

Kind friends I’ll bid you all adieu I can no longer stay

Our big ship sails tomorrow and its time I was away

So fill your glasses to the brim and toast with one loud roar

And we’ll sing in praise of Springhill Braes and lovely Moneymore