ENNIS FLEADH NUA - Comhaltas Archive

CARNANDAISY/or/TO ALL INTENDED EMIGRANTSTo all intended emigrants I pen this simple lay.... : .. >.-, .. ·b,I ...... h., • v~ ~tIFrom one who lies in hospital three thousand miles awayI-~11 lJt~ -~- I ..... •• -"-.1->..- - • - .........l• -wo . .\. I\.3 ..... -wo I_~- IIiiiTo warn them of the dangerS, that they mIght read and see.-The fate of a young Irishman in that great land of the free.CARNANDAISY for/TO ALL INTENDEDEMIGRANTSTo all intended emigrants I pen this simple layFrom one who lies in hospital three thousand miles awayTo warn them of the dangers, that they niight read and seeThe fate of a young Irishman in that great land of the free .I left my peacful residence near to Slieve Gallion BraeLight·hearted as the moorcocks that on the heather playNo hare on Carnandaisy more swiftly fled than IAs I left my lovely mountain home and bade my last good·byeOn board of an ocean liner where the Foyle's bright watersplayI stood, an Irish emigrant, bound for Amerikay.And as I took a last fond look, with a beart both sad and soreI cursed the laws that drove me from my sainted shamrockshore.The morning that I landed there , I scaled two hundredpoundsI feared not John L. Sullivan, who wore the laurel (world?)crown.Fresh from my lovely mountain home , with muscles strongas steel,No champion on Columbia's shore, before him would I yield.But for six long months in search of work I wandered far andnear'Til at last I joined the Navy as an Irish volunteerNo wonder on my wasted cheeks I hear a blush of shameTo think that I backed the Stars and Stripes against the sonsof Spain.I stood on board of a battle ship on that ill·fated dayWhen the Spanish fleet was captured in San Diego BayA bombshell fired that evening from out Port San JuanLeft many a widow mourning and me a wounded man.Disabled now for all my life I never more shall strayThrough the fields of Carnandaisy on the green shores ofLough NeaghI'll never see my parents dear who bore my loss full soreNor meet my colleen sweetheart in the town of Moneymore.But why should I be dreameing of those happy days gonebyeWhen it's in a New York cemetry my wasted bones shall lie.Like thousands of my countrymen I'll fill a nameless graveFar away from Wild Slieve Gallion where the bloomingheather waves.