“O father dear, I oft-times hear you talk of Erin’s Isle,
Her lofty scenes and valleys green, her mountains rude and wild.
They say it is a pretty place wherein a prince might dwell.
And why did you abandon it, the reason to me tell.”
“My son, I loved our native land with energy and pride,
Until a blight came on my land, my sheep and cattle died.
The rent and taxes were to pay, I could not them redeem,
And that’s the cruel reason why I left old Skibbereen.
“Oh it’s well I do remember that bleak December day,
The landlord and the sheriff came to drive us all away.
They set my roof on fire with their demon yellow spleen,
And that’s another reason why I left old Skibbereen.
“Your mother too, (God rest her soul) lay on the snowy ground.
She fainted o’er in anguish with the desolation round.
She never rose, but passed away from life to immortal dream,
And found a quiet grave, my boy, in dear old Skibbereen.
“And you were only two years old and feeble was your frame.
I could not leave you with your friends, you bore your father’s name.
I wrapped you in my cóta mór at the dark of night unseen.
I heaved a sigh and bid goodbye to dear old Skibbereen.
“It’s well I do remember the year of forty eight,
When I arose with Erin’s boys to battle against the fate.
I was hunted thro’ the mountains like a traitor to the Queen,
And that’s another reason why I left old Skibbereen.”
“O father dear, the day will come when vengeance loud will call,
And we will rise with Erin’s boys to rally one and all.
I’ll be the man to lead the van beneath our flag of green,
And loud and high will raise the cry ‘Revenge for Skibbereen.”
“Skibbereen,” James Mahony, 1847
