Irish Stew Of Sindidun


Oh, father dear, I ofttimes hear you speak of Erin's Isle
Her lofty scenes, her valleys green, her mountains rude and wild
They say it`s a lovely land wherein a prince might dwell
Then why did you abandon her, the reason to me tell

My son, I loved my native land with energy and pride
Then a blight came over all my crops and my sheep and cattle died
The rents and taxes were to pay, I could not them redeem
And that's the cruel reason I left old Skibereen

How well I do remember that bleak November day
When the bailiff and the landlord came to drive us all away
They set the roof on fire with their cursed English spleen
And that's another reason I left old Skibereen

Your mother, too, God rest her soul, lay on the snowy ground
She fainted in her anguishing seeing the desolation round
She never rose, but passed away from life to immortal dreams
And that's another reason I left old Skibereen

Oh you were only two years old and feeble was your frame
I could not leave you with my friends for you bore your father’s name
I wrapped you in my cota mor at the dead of the night unseen
And I heved a sigh and I said goodbye to dear old Skibereen

Oh father dear the day will come when on vengeance we will call
And Irishmen both stout and tall will rally unto the call
I`ll be the man to lead the van beneath the flag of green
And loud and high we will raise the cry revenge for Skibereen

Author: Trad. / arr. Irish Stew of Sindidun