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| | [No title] (Site not responding. Last check: 2007-10-29) |
 | | SKIBBEREEN O, Father dear, I ofttimes heard you talk of Erin's Isle, Her valleys green, her lofty scene, her mountains rude and wild; You said it was a pleasant place wherein a prince might dwell, Why have you then forsaken her, the reason to me tell? |
 | | My son, I loved our native land with energy and pride Until a blight fell on the land and sheep and cattle died, The rents and taxes were to pay, I could not them redeem, And that's the cruel reason why I left Old Skibbereen. |
 | | Your mother, too, God rest her soul, lay on the snowy ground, She fainted in her anguish of the desolation round. |
| www.lpt.fi /~zaphod/lyrics/skibbereen (217 words) |
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