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The Irish Stranger lyrics
Pity the fate of a poor Irish stranger,
That wanders so far from his home,
That sighs for protection from want, woe, and danger,
That knows not from which way for to roam.
Yet I ll never return to Hibernia s green bowers,
For tyranny tramples the sweetest of flowers,
That once gave me comfort in loneliest hours?
Now they are gone I shall ne er see them more.


With wonder I gazed on yon lofty building,
As in grandeur I rose from its lord,
But soon I beheld my fair garden yielding
The choicest of fruit for his foe.
But, where is my father s lone cottage of clay,
Wherein I ve spent many a long day,
Alas ! has his lordship conniv d it away ?
Yes, it is gone, I shall never see it more.


When nature was seen in the sloe bush and bramble,
All smiling in beautiful bloom,
Over the fields without danger, I often
Did ramble amidst their perfume ;
I have wranged through the woods where the gay feather d
throng
Joyfully sung their loud echoing song?
These days then of summer passed sweetly along,
Now they re gone?I shall ne er see them more !


When the sloe and the berries hung ripe on the bushes
I have gathered them off without harm?
I have gone to the field and shorn the green rushes,
Preparing for winter s cold storm !
Along with my friends telling tales of delight,
Beguiling the hours of the long winter s night,
Those days gave me pleasure?I could them invite ;
Now they re gone, I shall ne er see them more.


Oh, Erin ! oh, Erin ! it grieves me to ponder
The wrongs of thy injurned isle !
Of thy sons may a thousand from home do wander
On shores far away an exile !
But give me the power to cross the main,
Calumbia might yield me some shelter from pain,
I am only lamenting whilst here I remain,
For the boys I shall ne er see again.
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