Oh father dear, and I often hear you speak of Erin’s isle Her lofty scenes, her valleys green, her mountains rude and wild They say it is a lovely land wherein a prince might dwel Then why did you abandon it, oh the reason to me tell. My son, I loved my native land with energy and pride Till a blight came over on my crops, and my sheep and cattle died The rents and taxes were to pay, and I could not them redeem And that’s the cruel reason I left old Skibbereen Tis 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 Skibbereen Oh 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 Skibbereern 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 cóta mór at the dead of night unseen And I heaved a sigh and said goodbye to dear old Skibbereen.Oh father dear, and the day will come when on vengeance we will call And Irish men both stout and tall will rally onto the call I’ll be the man to lead the van beneath the flag of green And loud and high we’ll raise a cry, Revenge for Skibbereen!