Oh father dear, well I've often heard you speak of Erin´s Isle
Her lofty scenes, her valleys green, her mountains rude and wild
They say it is a lovely land wherein a prince might d´well
Oh why did you abondon it? The reason to me tell
Oh son, I loved my native land with energy and pride
Till a blight came over all my crops, my sheep, my cattle died
My rent and taxes were to high, I could not them redeem
And that's the cruel reason that I'd left old Skibbereen
Oh and well do I remember, son, that bleak December day
When the sheriff and the landlord came to drive us all away
They set my cottage roof on fire with cursed English spleen
And that's another reason that I'd left old Skibbereen
Oh Your mother too, God rest her soul, lay on the snowy ground
She'd fainted in her anguish saw the desolation 'round
She never rose but passed away from life to immortal dream
And found a quiet grave, me boy, in dear old Skibbereen
Oh father dear, well the day might come when in answer to the call
Each Irish men would feeling strong will rally one and all
And I'll be the man to lead the band beneath the flag of green
And loud and high well you'll hear the cry, Revenge for Skibbereen!