Sweet Moneymore

Adieu to you old Ireland, for I must go away,
I now shake hands and say good-bye, I can no longer stay,
Our good ship lies in deep Lough Foyle bound for Columbia's shore
And I must go from all I know around sweet Moneymore.

I was born in County Derry boys, I'm not ashamed to tell,
Near that sweet spot that's called the Loop, I'm sure you know it well,
And there resides a bonny lad and often he has swore
To make me his if I return again to Moneymore.

George Washington Columbia freed from out the Lion's paws,
'Twas hard he fought for freedom's rights and brought in freedom's laws,
What Ireland wants and will not get it makes our hearts full sore
Which makes us sail away the say far, far from Moneymore.

This little town encircled round by many a wood and grove
Where lads and lasses there do meet, in splendour they do rove,
Where the primrose grows and the violet blows I often wandered o'er
And by my side the lad I loved, the best in Moneymore.

I now must bid you all farewell, I can no longer stay,
Our good ship sails tomorrow, its time I was away,
So fill your glasses to the brim, let us toast with one load roar
A long farewell to you Spring Hill and you sweet Moneymore.
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