كلمات Erin's Lovely Home

My father, he being a farmer reared to industry He had four sons, two men who'd grown, and lovely daughters three Our land's too small to serve us all so some of us must roam Our friends may mourn for we'll never return to Erin's lovely home My father, he sold the second cow and he borrowed twenty pounds It was in the pleasant month of May we sailed from Belfast town With thousands more we left our shore in safety to roam Our friends may mourn for we'll never return to Erin's lovely home We hadn't been long sailing when fever seized our crew Falling like the autumn leaves and overboard were threw The ocean waves, they rolled o'er our graves, our bed the ocean foam Our friends may mourn for we'll never return to Erin's lovely home