|
Over green mountain sides |
|
Over fields where we lay |
|
Over sunsplashed orange skylines |
|
My dying lambs they bleed and scream |
|
And I crush them with my boot heels |
|
For no shells I can afford |
|
And I'm off to Dublin City |
|
For I've lost our room and board |
|
No I couldn't join the army |
|
If I died what would we do |
|
Me wife she is me sunshine |
|
But she knows not what we do |
|
To my dearest sweetest Colleen |
|
Please forgive me for not calling |
|
I regret you have to find this |
|
The note that says I'm gone |
|
I hope you do not shun me |
|
Only ask that you forgive me |
|
It was bound to happen as we both know |
|
You know it had to be done |
|
Take hold of tiny Kathleen |
|
Take her o'er to mother Maureen's |
|
There's money in the strongbox |
|
Food and tickets in the car |
|
Well, I can't stand to see you crying |
|
Nor can you to see us dying |
|
Well, I've gone to to set it right |
|
I know you'll think I've gone too far |
|
I cannot take this preasure on me |
|
No one ever said it was in store for me |
|
Well, I pray you do not shun me |
|
I'm coming back my dear Colleen |