Farewell to the groves of shillelagh and shamrock
Farewell to the girls of Old Ireland all round
May their hearts be as merry as ever they would wish for
When far away across the ocean I'm bound
 
Oh my father is old and my mother quite feeble
To leave their own country it grieves their hearts sore
Oh the tears in great drops down their cheeks they are rolling
To think they must die upon some far and foreign shore
 
But what matters to me where my bones may be buried
If in peace and contentment I can spend my life
Oh the green fields of Canada they daily are blooming
It's there I'll put an end to my miseries and strife.
 
Then it's pack up your seastores and tarry no longer
Ten dollars a week isn't very bad pay;
With no taxes or tithes to devour up your wages
When you're on the green fields of Amerikay
 
The sheep run unshorn and the land's gone to rushes,
The blacksmiths are gone and the winders of creels,
Away o'er the ocean go journeymen tailors,
And fiddlers who flaked out the old mountain reels.
 
Farewell to the dances in homes now deserted,
When tips struck the lightening in splanks from the floor,
The paving and crigging of hobnails on flagstones
The tears of the old folk and shouts of encore.
 
For the landlords and bailiffs in vile combination,
Have forced us from hearthstone and homestead away
May the crowbar brigade all be doomed to damnation
When we're on the fields of Americay.
 
The timber grows thick on the slopes of Columbia
With Douglas in grandeur two hundred feet tall,
The salmon and sturgeon dam streamlet and river,
And the high Rocky Mountains look down on it all.
 
On the prairie and plain sure the wheat waves all golden
The maple gives sugar to sweeten your tay.
You won't want for corn cob way out in Saskatchewan
When you're in the green fields of Americkay.
 
And if you grow weary of pleasure and plenty
Of fruit from the orchard and fish from the foam,
There's health and good hunting 'way back in the forests
Where herds of great moose and wild buffalo roam.
 
And it's now to conclude and to finish my ditty
If ever friendless Irishmen chances my way
With the best in the house I will treat him, and welcome
At home in the green fields of Amerikay.