Long we've travelled, long traversed,
Spurred by famine and English curse,
What fate on Earth could ever be worse
Than to leave our fair green isle?
All the nation's youth are gone,
They've succumbed to hunger, every one
They're either dead, or have moved on,
We'll never see them smile.
When will their faces again be seen
On native land, so fair and green?
Too long's the time that they have been
Away across the miles.
Hearts will hunger, souls will yearn,
Fierce will Irish spirits burn,
Until to Erin they return,
If we're patient for a while.
We'll await withdraw of English lease,
We'll await mercy and surcease,
And then at last there will be peace,
Upon old Erin's Isle.
At last we'll lift the gathering gloom
That closes lids on Irish tombs
As the travellers reclaim the womb
Of the Emerald Isle.