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THE GREEN FIELDS OF AMERICA

Our ship is now waiting, her anchor she's weighing,
Farewell to the land that I'm going to leave;
My Betsy has parted with father and mother
With me for to cross o'er the wide Western wave.
So hasten dear Betsy, my dear blue-eyed lassie,
Bid farewell to your mama and come along with me
I'll do my endeavour to make your heart cheery
Till we land on the green fields of Amerikay.

There's brandy in Quebec at ten pence a quart, boys,
There's gin in New Brunswick at a penny a glass,
There's rum in the town that they call Montreal
And we will drink hearty each one as we pass!
So cheer up your hearts you lads and young lasses
There's gold here amongst us, and lots of it too,
Success to the hearts that have courage to venture,
Misfortune to him or to her that would rue.

Farewell to the groves of the sweet County Wicklow,
Likewise to the girls of old Erin all around,
May their hearts be as merry as ever I wish them
Although far away on the ocean I'm bound,
And if ever it happens in some foreign climate
That a poor friendless Irishman comes in my way
With the best I can give him I'll make him right welcome
In my own habitation in Amerikay.

I remember the time when our country it flourished,
When tradesmen and labourers had plenty to do;
But now our manufacturers have crossed the Atlantic,
And we boys must follow or remain here to rue.
Come pack up your stores and consider no longer
Ten dollars a week is not very bad pay
There's no tithes or taxes to devour up our labour
When we're in the green fields of Amerikay.