Oh, father dear I often hear
You speak of Erin’s Isle
Her lofty scenes, her valleys green
Her mountains rude and wild
They say it is a lovely land
Wherein a prince might dwell
Then why did you abandon it
The reason to me tell

My son I loved my native land
With energy and pride
Then a blight came over all my crops
And my sheep and cattle died
The rents and taxes were to pay
And I could not them redeem
And that’s the cruel reason
I left old Skibereen

It’s well I do remember
The bleak November day
When the bailiff and the landlord came
To drive us all away
They set the roof on fire with
Their cursed English spleen
And that’s another reason
I left old Skibereen

Oh, your mother too, God rest her soul
Lay on the snowy ground
She fainted in her anguishing
Seeing the desolation round
She never rose but passed away
From life to immortal dreams
And that’s another reason
I left old Skibereen

Oh, you were only two years old
And feeble was your frame
I could not leave you with my friends
For you bore your father’s name
I wrapped you in my cota mor
At the dead of the night unseen
And I heaved a sigh and I said goodbye
To dear old Skibereen

Oh, well father dear the day will come
When on vengeance we will call
And Irishmen both stout and tall
Will rally unto the call
I’ll be the man to lead the band
Beneath the flag of green
And loud and high we’ll raise the cry:
“Revenge for Skibereen”