An Irish boy was leaving,
Leaving his native home.
Crossing the broad Atlantic way,
Once more he wished to roam.
And as he was leaving his mother
While walking over the quay
He threw his arms around her neck,
And those words he did say.
"A mother's love is a blessing,
No matter where you roam.
Keep her while she's leaving,
You'll miss her when she is gone.
Love her as in child-hood,
So feeble old and grey.
You'll never miss a mother's love,
'Till she's buried 'neath the clay.
And as the years roll onward,
I'll settle down in life.
Scag na scéalta
Ar an leathanach seo