Lyrics:

My father, he being a farmer reared to industry
He had four sons, two men who’d grown, and lovely daughters three
Our land’s too small to serve us all so some of us must roam
Our friends may mourn for we’ll never return to Erin’s lovely home

My father, he sold the second cow and he borrowed twenty pounds
It was in the pleasant month of May we sailed from Belfast town
With thousands more we left our shore in safety to roam
Our friends may mourn for we’ll never return to Erin’s lovely home

We hadn’t been long sailing when fever seized our crew
Falling like the autumn leaves and overboard were threw
The ocean waves, they rolled o’er our graves, our bed the ocean foam
Our friends may mourn for we’ll never return to Erin’s lovely home