Tom Nolan & Bridget Kenny


As I rambled out one morning at the clearing of the dawn,

To hear the blackbirds merry song all around sweet Crotta lawn,

And to view the wooded uplands where the stately hawthorns grow,

Sure its little I thought I would ever leave sweet smiling Garrynagore.


You may travel many a weary mile across the ocean foam,

Although your future may be spent far from your native home,

No matter where you chance to stray or where your footsteps roam,

You'll fondly think both night and day of sweet smiling Garrynagore.


How pleasant 'twas on Sundays when oft young maidens strolled,

All along those mossy banks their love tales there they told,

And to sit upon the old mill bridge and watch the young fishes come and go,

Beneath the shining waters of sweet smiling Garrynagore.


But few of them are left to tell of those bright happy days,

Some have left their native homes and crossed the ocean waves,

Whilst more lie in the old church yard where the ivy silently grows,

And the graceful swan she glides along, sweet smiling Garrynagore.


But I hope the day is not far away when those young hearts will stand,

Once more upon the Crotta hills to view their native lands,

To right the wrongs we have suffered long, and lay those tyrants low,

Beneath the shining waters of sweet smiling Garrynagore.

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