O, Father dear, I oft times heard you talk of Erin's Isle Her lofty scene, her valley's green, her mountains rude and wild They it is a pretty place where in a prince might dwell Oh why did you abandon it, the reason to me tell? Oh son i loved my native land with energy and pride 'Til a blight came ove on my cropsa, my sheep and cattle died The rent and taxes were so high i could not them redeem And thats the cruel reason why I left old Skibereen Your mother too, God rest her soul, fell on the snowy ground She faunted in her anguish seeing the desolate round She never rose but passed away from life to mortal dream She found a quiet grave, my boy, in dear old Skibereen