The palm trees wave on high all along the fertile shore Adieu, the Hills of Kerry, I never will see no more Oh, why did I leave my home, oh why did I cross the sea? And leave the small birds singing around you sweet Tralee
The noble and the brave have departed from our shore They´ve gone off to a foreign land where the wild canons roar No more they´ll see the shamrock, the plant so dear to me Or hear the small birds singing around my sweet Tralee
No more the sun will shine on that blessed harvest morn Or hear our reaper singing in a golden field of corn There´s a balm for every woe and a cure for every pain But the happyness of my darling girl I never will see again