Isle of Hope, Isle of Tears

On the first day of January,
Eighteen ninety-two,
They opened Ellis Island and they let
The people through.
And first to cross the threshold
Of that isle of hope and tears,
Was Annie Moore from Ireland
Who was all of fifteen years.

Isle of hope, isle of tears,
Isle of freedom, isle of fears,
But it's not the isle you left behind.
That isle of hunger, isle of pain,
Isle you'll never see again
But the isle of home is always on your mind.

In a little bag she carried
All her past and history,
And her dreams for the future
In the land of liberty.
And courage is the passport
When your old world disappears
But there's no future in the past
When you're fifteen years

Isle of hope, isle of tears,
Isle of freedom, isle of fears,
But it's not the isle you left behind.
That isle of hunger, isle of pain,
Isle you'll never see again
But the isle of home is always on your mind.

When they closed down Ellis Island
In nineteen forty-three,
Seventeen million people
Had come there for sanctuary.
And in springtime when I came here
And I stepped onto it's piers,
I thought of how it must have been
When you're fifteen years.

Isle of hope, isle of tears,
Isle of freedom, isle of fears,
But it's not the isle you left behind.
That isle of hunger, isle of pain,
Isle you'll never see again
But the isle of home is always on your mind.
The isle of home is always on your mind.

Skibbereen

O Father dear, 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 dwell
Oh why did you abandon it? The reason, to me tell.

O son, I loved my native land with energy and pride
'Til a blight came o'er my crops, my sheep and cattle died
My rent and taxes were too high, I could not them redeem
And that's the cruel reason that I left old Skibbereen.

O well do I remember the bleak December day
The landlord and the sheriff came to drive us all away
They set my roof on fire with cursed English spleen
And that's another reason that I left old Skibbereen.

Your mother too, God rest her soul, fell on the snowy ground
She fainted in her anguish, seeing the desolation round
She never rose, but passed away from life to mortal 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 my friends, you bore your father's name
I wrapped you in my cothamore at the dead of night unseen
I heaved a sigh and bade good-bye to dear old Skibbereen.

O Father dear, the day may come when in answer to the call
Each Irishman, with feeling stern, will rally one and all
I'll be the man to lead the van beneath the flag of green
When loud and high, we'll raise the cry: "Remember Skibbereen!"

Shores of Botany Bay/Shores of Amerikay

Farewell to your bricks and mortar
Farewell to your dirty lies
Farewell to your gangway and gang planks
And to hell with your overtime
For the good ship Ragamuffin
Is lying at the quay
For to take old Pat with a shovel on his back
To the shores of Botany Bay.

While on my way down to the quay where the ship at anchor lay,
to command a gang of navvies that I was told to engage,
I stopped in for to drink a while before I go away,
for to take trip an immigrant ship to shores of Botany Bay!

Farewell to your bricks and mortar
Farewell to your dirty lies
Farewell to your gangway and gang planks
And to hell with your overtime
For the good ship Ragamuffin
Is lying at the quay
For to take old Pat with a shovel on his back
To the shores of Botany Bay.

Well the boss came up this mornin' and he said "Well, Pat y'know,
if you didn't get those navvies out, I'm afraid you'll 'ave t'go"
So I asked'em for me wages! And Demanded all my pay!
And I told'em straight, we would immigrate to the shores of Botany Bay!

Farewell to your bricks and mortar
Farewell to your dirty lies
Farewell to your gangway and gang planks
And to hell with your overtime
For the good ship Ragamuffin
Is lying at the quay
For to take old Pat with a shovel on his back
To the shores of Botany Bay.

And when I reach Australia, I'll go and search for gold!
There's plenty there for diggin' up, or so I have been told,
or else I'll go back to me trade and a hundred bricks I'll lay,
because I live for an eight hour shift on the shores of Botany Bay!

Farewell to your bricks and mortar
Farewell to your dirty lies
Farewell to your gangway and gang planks
And to hell with your overtime
For the good ship Ragamuffin
Is lying at the quay
For to take old Pat with a shovel on his back
To the shores of Botany Bay.

Farewell to your bricks and mortar
Farewell to your dirty lies
Farewell to your gangway and gang planks
And to hell with your overtime
For the good ship Ragamuffin
Is lying at the quay
For to take old Pat with a shovel on his back
To the shores of Botany Bay!

The Shores of Americkay is similar - the narrator emigrates "to seek a home/for my own true love."  Even though this narrator is leaving Ireland of his own will as opposed to the narrator of Skibbereen being driven out by circumstance, he's still extremely sad.  An interesting thing about covers of this song is that it is sometimes sung at a much faster tempo, which makes it sound much happier, despite the lyrics telling you the narrator is crying.

I'm bidding farewell to the land of my youth
and the home I love so well.
And the mountains so grand round my own native land,
I'm bidding them all farewell.
With an aching heart I'll bid them adieu
for tomorrow I'll sail far away,
O'er the raging foam for to seek a home
on the shores of Amerikay.

It's not for the want of employment I'm going,
It's not for the love of fame,
That fortune bright may shine over me
and give me a glorious name.
It's not for the want of employment I'm going
o'er the weary and stormy sea,
But to seek a home for my own true love,
on the shores of Amerikay.

And when I am bidding my last farewell
the tears like rain will blind,
To think of my friends in my own native land,
and the home I'm leaving behind.
But if I'm to die in a foreign land
and be buried so far far away
No fond mother's tears will be shed o'er my grave
on the shores of Amerikay.

Gleanntáin Ghlas' Ghaoth Dobhair (The Green Glens of Gaoth Dobhair)

Céad slán ag sléibhte maorga
chontae Dhún na nGall,
Agus dhá chéad slán ag an Earagal árd,
ina stua(í) os cionn caor 's call
Nuair a ghluais mise thart le loch Dhún Lúiche,
go ciún 's an ghleann ina luí
I mo dhiaidh bhí Gleanntáin Ghlas' Ghaoth Dobhair,
is beag nár bhris mo chroí.

Ag taisteal dom amach tríd chnoic Ghleann Domhain,
's an Mhucais ar mo chúl
Ní miste domh 'rá le brón 's le crá,
ghur fhreasadh a shíl mise súil
Go 'Meiriceá siar, a bhí mo thriall,
i bhfad thar an fharraige mhór
D'fhag mé slán ar feadh seal ag Dún na nGall,
's ag Gleanntáin Ghlas' Ghaoth Dobhair.

Níorbh é mo mhiansa imeacht ariamh
ó mo thír bheag dhílis féin
Ach trom lámh Gall, le cluain 's le feall,
a thiomáin mé i gnéill
B'é rún mo chroíse pilleadh arís,
nuair a dhéanfainn beagán stór
'S deireadh mo shaoil a chaitheamh lem ghaoil,
fá Ghleanntáin Ghlas' Ghaoth Dobhair.

Slán, slán go fóill a Dhún na nGall,
a chontae shéimh gan smál
'S do d'fheara bréa in am an ghá,
nár umhlaigh riamh roimh Ghall
Tá áit i mo chroí do gach fear a gach mnaoi,
's gach páiste beag agus mór
Áta beo go buan, gan bhuairt gan ghruaim,
faoi Ghleanntáin Ghlas' Ghaoth Dobhair.

Farewell to the noble
mountains of Donegal
And twice farewell to tall Errigal,
arching over rowen and ash tree
When I passed by Dunlewey lake,
lying quietly in the glen
Behind me were the little green glens of Gaoth Dobhair,
and it nearly broke my heart

Travelling through Glendowan's Hills,
and Muckish behind me
I don't mind saying with sorrow and grief,
that tears fell from my eyes
Westward to America was my journey,
far across the wide sea
I said farewell for a while to Donegal,
and the little green glens of Gaoth Dobhair

I never wanted to leave
my own beloved land
But the foreigner's heavy handed deceit
and treachery drove me away
It would be my heart's desire to return again,
when I should get a little money
To spend the end of my life with my family,
'round the little green glens of Gaoth Dobhair

Yet farewell, farewell to Donegal,
the County fine and fair
And to your brave men who in time of need,
did not ever cower before the foreigner
There's a place in my heart for each man and woman,
each child big and small
Who live in peace, without sorrow or grief,
in the little green glens of Gaoth Dobhair

The Land of the Gael

I wish I was westward of Dingle
On the golden sands of Beál Bán
Where I’d wait for the mountain of Brandon
To appear in the red light of dawn
I’d gaze over Smerwick Harbour
See the yacht with its billowing sail
My body is here in the Bowery
But my heart’s in the Land of the Gael

Too free with the juice of the barely
It softens my will and my brain
And whenever I save a few dollars
I fall off the wagon again
But I’m thinking of Kerry in Ireland
The Blaskets and fair Ceann Sibéal
When the sun is a red ball of fire
As it sets on the Land of the Gael

In my mind's eye I see every detail
her mountains, valleys and seas,
The butterfly dancing a hornpipe,
the thistledown flying in the breeze,
The fuschia, loosestrife and cowparsley,
the primrose that blooms in the vale,
I'll pick the wild flowers in the Summer time
when I'm back in the Land of the Gael.

Now the wind like a knife it goes through me
and with hunger I'm ready to fall,
And the snowflakes are swirling around me
as I head for the Church Mission Hall,
I hear the sweet song of the skylark,
and I list to the curlew's sad wail,
As over the ocean they call me
to come back to the Land of the Gael.

For it's fifty long years since I left it,
a young fellow still in my teens,
Did I ever return now you ask me -
I go back every night in my dreams,
Yes the call of my homeland's all powerful,
and I'm certain this time I'll not fail,
Then I'll hear my own tongue and again
I'll be young when I'm home in the Land of the Gael.

The Exile of Erin

There came to the beach a poor exile of Erin.
The dew on his thin robe was heavy and chill;
For his country he sighed, when at twilight reparing.
To wander alone by the wind-beaten hill.
But the day-star attracted his eyes' sad devotion,
For it rose o'er his own native isle of the ocean,
When once in the fire of his youthful emotion,
He sang the loud anthem of Erin-go-Bragh.

"Sad is my fate!" said the heart-broken stranger :
The wild-deer and wolf to a convert can flee.
But I have no refuge from famine and danger-
A home and a country remain not to me.
Never again, in the green sunny bowers,
Where my forefathers lived, shall I spend the sweet hours,
Or cover my harp with the wild-women flower,
And strike to the numbers of Erin-go-Bragh.

"Erin, my country ! though sad and forsaken,
In dreams I revisit thy sea beaten shore:
But alas ! in a far foreign land I awaken,
And sigh for the friends who can meet me no more
O! cruel fate ! wilt thou never replace me
In a mansion of peace where no perils can chase me?
Never again shall my brothers embrace me.
They died to defend me, or live to deplore.

"Where is my cabin door, fast by the wild wood?
Sisters and sire, did you weep for its fall?
Where is the mother that looked on my childhood?
And where is the bosom friend dearer than all?
O! my sad heart! long abandoned by pleasure,
Why did it dote on fast-fading treasure?
Tears, like the rain-drops, may fall with-out measure,
But rapture and beauty they cannot recall

Carrickfergus

I wish I was in Carrickfergus
Only for nights in Ballygrand
I would swim over the deepest ocean
The deepest ocean for my love to find

But the sea is wide and I cannot swim over
Neither have I wings to fly
If I could find me a handsome boatsman
To ferry me over to my love and die

My childhood days bring back sad reflections
Of happy times spent so long ago
My childhood friends and my own relations
Have all passed on now like melting snow

But I'll spend my days in endless roaming
Soft is the grass, my bed is free
Ah, to be back now in Carrickfergus
On that long road down to the sea

I'll spend my days in endless roaming
Soft is the grass, my bed is free
But I am sick now, and my days are numbered
Come all you young men and lay me down

Do bhí bean uasal seal dá lua liom,
's chuir sí suas díom fóraíl ghéar;
Do ghabhas lastuas di sna bailte móra
Ach go dtug sí svae  léi os comhair an tsaoil.

Is mian liom go raibh mé i Carrickfergus
Ach amháin le haghaidh oiche i Ballygran
Ba mhaith liom ag snamh os cionn na farraige is doimhne
An farraige is doimhne le mo ghrá a aimsiú