An Emigrant's Farewell/The Hills Of Glenswilly
An Emigrant's Farewell
Edited by P.T. MacGinley
(Written on board the "Invercargill" bound for New Zealand & also the subject of a documentary, "Erin's Exiled Daughters")
Now list awhile my countrymen and hear your native muse,
Although my song is sorrowful I know you'll me excuse;
I've left my native country a far foreign land to see,
I've bid farewell to Donegal, likewise to Glensuillee.
'Twas with a sad and heavy heart I left my native glen,
My much beloved birthplace I may never see again;
But when I'm on a foreign shore with grief I'll think of thee,
And of the happy days I spent around sweet Glensuillee.
The summer sun was peeping o're a distant mountain grey,
When I left my peaceful residence to wander far away;
And as I viewed that grand old glen, perhaps no more to see,
I thought my heart would surely break when leaving Glensuillee.
Brave stalwart men around me stood, my comrades kind and true,
And as I grasped each well-known hand to bid a last adieu,
I siad - "my fellow-countrymen, I hope you'll yet be free,
To raise the Sunburst proundly o're the hills of Glensuillee."
God bless you dark old Donegal, my own dear fatherland,
I often dream I see again thy towering mountains grand;
Alas! twelve thousand miles do lie between those hills and me,
I'm a poor forlorn exile cast away from Glensuillie.
No more among your sycamores I'll hear the black-bird sing
No more to me the blythe cuckoo shall welcome back the Spring,
No more I'll plough your fertile fields achuisle geal mo chroidhe,
On a foreign soil I'm doomed to toil far, far from Glensoolie.
No more at ball or harvest home, my violin I'll play,
No more I'll dance the Allemande among the girls so gay;
I've left my treasured harp behind, that was so dear to me,
"Twill keep my place when I am gone, in dear old Glensoolie.
May peace and plenty reign supreme around Lough Swilly's shore;
May discord never enter those sweat homesteads anymore;
Perhaps the time may yet come round, when I'll return to thee,
To live as my forefathers lived, and die in Glensoolie.
(Sent in by Joe Dougherty)
The Hills Of Glenswilly
Michael (Mick) McGinley (1852-1940)
Arr by Ryan's Fancy (Songs From The Shows © 2001, Avalon Music)
Attention pay, my countrymen, and hear my native news,
Although my song is sorrowful, I hope you'll me excuse;
I left my native country a foreign land to see,
I bid farewell to Donegal, likewise to Glenswilly.
T'was on a summer's morning at the dawning of the day,
I left my peaceful, happy home to wander far away;
And as I viewed that grand old man, perhaps no more to see,
I thought my heart would surely break in leaving Glenswilly.
No more among the sycamore I'll hear the blackbird sing,
No more I'll hear the blithe cuckoo that welcomes back the spring;
No more I'll plow your fertile fields, a chuisle geal mo chroÌdhe,
On a foreign soil I'm doomed to toil far away from Glenswilly.
God bless you, dark old Donegal, my own, my native land,
In dreams I'll see your heathered glens and towering mountains grand;
God bless the day, will ere come 'round when I'll return to thee,
And live as my forefathers lived, and die in Glenswilly.
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