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The Green Fields Of Canada (Trad.Arr. R. Kavana)


Farewell to old Erin the land of my childhood
Which now and forever I am forced to leave
To live here in bondage I'd ne'er be contented
Though a place of great beauty and home of the brave
I will think on its valleys with fond admiration
Though never again its green hills I will see
As I set sail for Canada across the wide ocean
In search of fame, fortune and sweet liberty

It's hard to be forced from the land we were born in,
Our home and our holdings obliged for to sell
To wander alone among Indians and strangers
In search of a place where our children might live
But what matter to me where my bones may be buried
If in peace and contentment I can live my life
Where the Rockies gaze down over Alberta's wheat plains
There I'll find an end to all misery and strife

Chorus:  So pack up your sea stores, consider no longer
              Ten dollars a week isn't very bad pay
              With no taxes or tithes to devour up your wages
              When we're on the green fields of Canada away.

Our farmers, our artists and tradesmen are leavin',
The coopers are gone and the winders of creels.
Away oe'r the ocean go journemen tailors
And fiddlers who flaked out the old mountain reels.
Since our manufacturers the Atlantic crossed over
There's nothin'' but hardship at home if we stay
Wish success to those hearts with the courage to venture
Who now we must follow to Canada away.
Farewell to the dances in homes now deserted
Where boot tips struck lightnin' in splanks from the floor.
The jiggin' and reelin' of hobnails on flagstones,
The tears of the old folks and shouts of "encore".
For the landlords and baillifs in vile combination
Have forced us from heartstone and homestead away,
May the crowbar brigade all be doomed to damnation
When we're on the green fields of Canada away.

The timber grows thick on the slopes of Columbia
With Douglas in grandeur stood so very tall
The salmon and sturgeon, dam, streamlet and river
And the high Rocky Mountains looking down over all.
On the prairie and plain the wheat waves all golden
And the maple gives sugar to sweeten your tay.
You won't want for corncob way out in Saskatchewan
When we're on the green fields of Canada away.
And if you grow weary of pleasure and plenty,
Of fruit from the orchard and fish from the foam,
There's health and good livin' way back in the forest
Where herds of great moose and wild buffalo roam.
This promise I'll make, so depend without worry,
If ever a poor man he should chance my way
With the best in our house we will greet him in welcome
When we're on the green fields of Canada away.

There's brandy in Quebec at ten cents a quart boys,
The ale in New Brunswick's a penny a glass
There's room in the great town they call Montreal boys,
At inn after inn we will drink as we pass
We'll call for a bumper of ale, wine and brandy
And drink to the health of our friends so far away
Then we'll drink a last toast to the freedom of Ireland
When we're on the green fields of Canada away.

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