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lirik lagu frank harte - poor pat must emigrate

[verse 1]
fare well sons of erin’s isle, i now must leave you for awhile
the rents and taxes are so high, i can no longer stay
so i sailed away from dublin quat and landed here but yesterday
me coat, my brogues, my shirt and hose is all i’ve brought away
i’ve just called in to let you know, the sights i’ve seen before i go
of the ups and downs of ireland since the year of forty~eight
and if our nation had its own, her n0ble sons would stay at home
but since fortune has proved otherwise, poor pat must еmigrate

[verse 2]
and the divil a word i’d say at all, although our wages arе but small
if they’d leave us in our cabin, where our fathers drew their breath
but when they call upon rent day, and we have no ha’pence for to pay
they just turn us out of house and home, to beg or starve to death
but what sort of treatment, boys, is that, to give to honest irish pat?
to drive his family on the road, to beg or starve to death?
but i stood up with heart and hand, and sold my little plot of land
that’s the reason, boys, i tell you why poor pat must emigrate

[verse 3]
some horrid sights i’ve often seen but none more worse than skibbereen
where the famished stood there starving, for a mouthful just to eat
they starved and died in skibbereen, no shroud of coffin e’er was seen
in that awful year of ’48, when the famine was so great
i saw mothers, fathers, boys and girls with rosy cheeks and silken curls
so patiently, so reconciled, to what would be their fate
the helpless, they were thrown in graves, unknown to all but god, who saves
’tis no wonder the poor people were so glad to emigrate
[verse 4]
where is the nation or the man, that reared her sons like paddy’s land?
or where’s the man more n0ble, than the one called irish pat?
has he not bled for england’s queen, where e’er her army it was seen
and who took the town of delhi, can you please to tell me that?
or who pursued that indian chief, nana saheb that treacherous thief
who skivered babes and mothers, and left them to their fate?
then why should we be sore oppressed, in our dear land saint patrick blessed?
from the land in which we’ve done our best, poor pat must emigrate

[verse 5]
there is not a son from paddy’s land, but respects the memory of n0ble dan
who fought and struggled hard, to free our sad and plundered land
he advocated ireland’s rights, with all his strength and all his might
and he was poorly recompensed, for all his toil and pain
he told us not to be in haste and in him all our trust to place
and he would not desert us, or leave us to our fate
but death has never favour shown, unto the beggar or to the throne
since he took our liberator, now poor pat must emigrate

[verse 6]
farewell my lads i must away, for here i can no longer stay
the shamrock sails at break of day, bound for americay
they say there’s work for one and all, which we don’t have in donegal
and my boys, you know, by the great st. ruth, i have told to you the truth
so, farewell my boys with heart and hand, all you that takes old ireland’s part
’tis here i can no longer stay, for fear of being late
but if ever again i reach this land, you will find me a much better man
and i hope it will be with a fenian band, now poor pat must emigrate

- lirik lagu frank harte

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