Вступление
Skibbereen
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Oh father dear, well I've often heard you speak of Erin´s Isle
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Her lofty scenes, her valleys green, her mountains rude and wild
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They say it is a lovely land wherein a prince might d´well
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Oh why did you abondon it? The reason to me tell
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Oh son, I loved my native land with energy and pride
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Till a blight came over all my crops, my sheep, my cattle died
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My rent and taxes were to high, I could not them redeem
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And that's the cruel reason that I'd left old Skibbereen
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Oh and well do I remember, son, that bleak December day
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When the sheriff and the landlord came to drive us all away
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They set my cottage roof on fire with cursed English spleen
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And that's another reason that I'd left old Skibbereen
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Oh Your mother too, God rest her soul, lay on the snowy ground
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She'd fainted in her anguish saw the desolation 'round
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She never rose but passed away from life to immortal dream
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And found a quiet grave, me boy, in dear old Skibbereen
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Oh father dear, well the day might come when in answer to the call
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Each Irish men would feeling strong will rally one and all
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And I'll be the man to lead the band beneath the flag of green
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And loud and high well you'll hear the cry, Revenge for Skibbereen!
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