Oh father dear I often hear, you speak of Erin's Isle
Her loftey scenes her valleys green, her mountains rude and wild
They say it is a lovely land where in a prince might dwell
Then why did you abandon it the reason to me tell.

My son I loved my native land, with energy and pride.
Till' a blight came over all my crops, and my sheep and cattle died
The rents and taxes where to pay and I could not them redeem
And thats a cruel reason I left old Skibereen.

It is well I remember that bleak November day
When the baliff and the landlord came, to drive us all away
They set the roof on fire with their cursed English spleen.
And thats another reason I left old skibereen.

Your mother too god rest her soul, lay on the snowy ground.
she fainted in her anguishing seeing the desolation round'
She never rose but passed away, from life to immortal dreams.
And thats another reason I left old Skibereen

You where only two years old, and feeble was your frame.
I could not leave you with my friends, as you bore your fathers name
I wrapped you in my Cota Mor, at the dead of the night unseen
I heaved a sigh and I said goodbye to dear old Skibereen.

Oh well father dear the day will come, when on vengeance we will call.
And Irishmen both stout and tall will rally unto the call
I'll be the man to lead the band, beneath the flag of green.
And loud and high, we'll raise the cry. Revenge for Skibereen!