cluntygera braes
| One evening bound for recreation, from my home I chanced to roam |
| Viewing scenes of old dame nature, as I journeyed all alone. |
| Soon my thoughts were changed to sorrow, brooding over life's happier days |
| As I passed my haunts of boyhood, here on Cluntygera Braes. |
| I heard the plough boy's merry whistle, lilting over his favourite song |
| Lay about to him seemed a pleasure, as his horses jogged along |
| Wild birds sang their notes in chorus, thrush and blackbird joined their praise |
| Welcoming spring that happy season, back to Cluntygera Braes. |
| Here you'll meet some pretty maidens, none with them can I compare |
| With their rolling eyes of laughter, and their curls of waving hair |
| Tending to their sheep and cattle, that roam these hills to sport and graze |
| Still pursued by those fair damsels, born on Cluntygera Braes. |
| As I view those white-washed cabins, specked along each hill and glen |
| Search the plains all over Ireland, few have cradled braver men |
| Here you'll see some mothers weeping reading headstones built in praise |
| Of their sons who died for freedom, close to Cluntygera Braes. |
| Ireland now the dawn is breaking, freedom's flag you soon will wave |
| Paid for highly by your young manhood, thousands filled an early grave |
| But the tyrant's chain is broken, slavery's bonds will soon decay |
| And once more we'll live in comfort on sweet Cluntygera Braes. |
| Still for ones there's no rejoicing freedom means but little to me |
| Soon I'm bound to leave old Ireland, and seek a home across the sea |
| How I'll miss the Irish dances, but the tunes I used to play |
| Still will fill my heart with gladness, when far from Cluntygera Brae. |
| Fare-ye-well my native valley, well designed by nature's hand |
| How it grieves my heart to leave you and labour in a foreign land |
| When I reach old Philadelphia, I hope to spend some happy days |
| With my comrade lads and lasses who once roamed Cluntygera Braes. |
