Assembled on the black hillside, half buried in the snow
The snow fell thick and heavily, the while that we stood there
And the cold was most unbearable for all our feet were bare.
The master spoke some solemn words, a man of great renown
We can't stay here like outcasts, till we're frozen to the ground
We'll try Paddy Murphy's barn if we happen to get in
It would be more consoling than concealed behind a whin.
As we trudged along the boreen my thoughts began to stray
I thought of ancient Ireland and Ireland of today.
Will the cruel laws that bind us come ever to an end
Or will we die in slavery without a single friend
We all reached Paddy Murphy's. It was a great God - send
We saw in our misfortune - we had at least one friend