[C]Attention pay, my [F]countrymen, and hear my native [C]news
[C]Although my song is[F] sorrow[C]ful, I hope you'll
me ex[Am]cuse
I[C] left my peaceful[F] resi[C]dence a foreign land to [Am]see
And I[C] bid farewell to[F] Donegal, likewise
to Glen[C]swilly
Some stalwart men around me stood, each comrade loyal and true
And as I grasped each well-known hand to bid a last adieu
I
said, My fellow countrymen, I hope you'll soon be free
To raise the flag more proudly oer the hills of Glenswilly
It is these cruel English laws, they curse our native isle
Must Irishmen always live like slaves or else die in exile?
There's
not a man to strike a blow or to keep down tyranny
Since Lord Leitrim like a dog was shot not far from Glenswilly
No more beside the sycamore I'll hear the blackbird sing
No more to meet the blithe cuckoo to welcome back the spring
No
more I'll plow your fertile fields, a chuisle geal mo chroIdhe
On foreign soil I'm doomed to toil far, far from Glenswilly
God bless you, dark old Donegal, my own dear native land
In dreams I've often seen your hills and your towering mountains
grand
But the last three thousand miles of life separates these hills from me
I'm a poor forlorn exile cast far, far
from Glenswilly
I'm a poor forlorn exile cast far, far from Glenswilly
