All you young men I pray draw near now.
 Give an ear to the words I am goin' to say.
 I'm goin' to tell you that the people of Ireland are emigratin' to Americay.
 Yes indeed, they are emigratin'.
 This poor country they can't stand.
 Put their foot on board of a ship and they're sailing off to the Yankee land.
 The night before they were due for leaving.
 All the neighbours in their house do throng.
 For to take their farewell glass and otherwise to sing a song.
 They danced all night till early morning.
 Each man cutting all around the floor.
 Mother she comes in, says, weeping, "See our children to the door."
 Hurrah for the gallant sons of Erin!
 This poor country they can't stand.
 Put their foot on board of a ship while they're sailin' off to the Yankee land.
 Father he looks around the cabin.
 He sees that he is all alone.
 Surely his poor heart is breaking.
 His salt tears would melt the stone.
 The other day as I went to walking.
 Down the road I chanced to go.
 I saw a crowd to me approaching it surely filled my heart with woe.
 I saw the carriages and coaches moving onward forward to the train.
 And their handkerchiefs were waving bidding goodbye to Granuaile
 Hurrah for the gallant sons of Erin!
 This poor country they can't stand.
 Put their foot on board of a ship while they're sailin' off to the Yankee land.
 When they get to New York harbour.
 Friends will meet them with good cheer.
 "How is old Ireland and how is she doin' and how is she comin' on this year?"
 Ohh she's the most distressed and cursed nation.
 In this world that e'er was seen.
 All they're good for is process-servin' in this little isle of green.
 Hurrah for the gallant sons of Erin!
 This poor country they can't stand.
 Put their foot on board of a ship while they're sailin' off to the Yankee land.
 Hurrah for the gallant sons of Erin!
 This poor country they can't stand.
 Put their foot on board of a ship while they're sailin' off to the Yankee land.