"Emigration Medley" lyrics - THE IRISH ROVERS

Now the ship it sails in half an hour
To cross the broad Atlantic
Me friends are standing on the quay
In grief and sorry frantic
I'm just about to sail away
On the good ship Dan O'Leary
The anchor's weighed and the gangway's up
I'm leaving Tipperary

Good-bye Mrs. Durkin
I'm sick and tired of working
No more I'll dig the praties
No longer I'll be poor
For as sure as me name is Barney
I'm off to Californy
Instead of digging praties
I'll be digging lumps of gold

So fare thee well my Darling Marriane
We sail at the break of day
O'er the raging foam to see a home
On the shores of Americay

We sailed from Cork one wintry day
With a grey and a stormy sky
Our friends were standing on the quay
The women stood and cried
Ah but we were young and out for fun
And riches we would find
So lift you're glass and drink a toast
To the girls we left behind
So Nellie dear drink up you're beer
We're leaving in the morn
Aboard the ship the Alice Grey
For Frisco round the horn

Next morning before judge and jury
For trial I had to appear
Then the judge he says me young fellow
The case against you is quite clear
And seven long years is your sentence
Oh your going to Van Dieman's Land
Far away from your friends and relations
To follow the Black Velvet Band

Fine girl you are!
And now the storm is raging
And we are far from shore
And our good ould ship is rolling about
And the rigging is all tore
But the secret of my mind my love
You're the girl I do adore
And still I live in hopes to see
The Holy Ground once more
Fine girl you are!

We landed on the other side
In three and thirty days
And drinking over a parting glass
We went our separate ways
We took each comrade by the hand
And whiskey flew galore
And we thought of all our absent friends
On the lovely shamrock shore

I'm not in San Francisco
And me fortune it is made
Me pockets loaded down with gold
I'll throw away me spade
Where ther's gold and money plenty
For the poor and for the gentry
And the next time that you hear from me
I'llwrite you from New York

So it is good bye Mrs. Durkin
I'm sick and tired of working
No more I'll dig the praties
No longer I'll be poor
For as sure as me name is Barney
I'm off to Californy
Instead of digging praties
I'll be digging lumps of gold