“You dark rolling billows that part me from Erin...”
You dark rolling billows that part me from Erin,
And leave me to mourn your charms for ever,
Now cease from your clamour whilst I am preparing
A song from my home by the St Laurence river.
I'm an emigrant stranger to yon star that's beaming,
And my home remaineth beneath yonder green hill.
But here I am wailing and the big tear is streaming,
Musing on nature and my native Lough Gill.3.
Oh: why did my fancy ever lead me to wander
In this western world my days to decline?
Or leave the green groves where the willows meander
to seek my promotion in a far distant clime
(leanann ar an chéad leathanach eile)