The Green Fields of America Lyrics

Song	The Green Fields of America
Artist	The Chieftains
Album	The Celtic Harp: A Tribute to Edward with the Belfast Harp Orchestra
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	作词 : Traditional
	Farewell to the groves of shillelagh and the shamrock
	Farewell to the girls of old
	Ireland all 'round
	And may their hearts be as merry as ever they could wish for
	As far away o'er the ocean
	I'm boundMy father is old and my mother's right feeble
	To leave their own country, it would grieve their heart sore
	Oh, the tears down their cheeks, in great floods they are rolling
	To think that
	I must die upon some far and foreign shore
	But what matter to me, where my bones they may lie buried
	If in peace and contentment
	I can spend my life
	The green fields of
	Amerikay, they daily are calling
	It's there
	I'll find an end to my misery and strife
	So pack up your sea stores now, consider it no longer
	Ten dollars a week isn't very bad pay
	With no taxes or tithe there to devour up your wages
	Across on the green fields of
	AmerikayThe lint dams are gone and the looms are lying idle
	Gone are the winders of baskets and creels
	And away o'er the ocean, go journeyman cowboys
	And fiddlers who play out the old mountain reels
	Ah, but I mind the time when old
	Ireland was flourishing
	And most of her tradesmen did work for good pay
	Ah, but since our manufacturers have crossed the
	AtlanticWell, it's now that
	I must follow onto
	AmerikayAnd now to conclude and to finish my ditty
	If e'er a friendless
	Irishman should happen my way
	With the best in the house,
	I will greet him and welcome him
	At home on the green fields of
	AmerikaySo pack up your sea stores now, consider it no longer
	Ten dollars a week isn't very bad pay
	With no taxes or tithe there to devour up your wages
	Across on the green fields of
	Amerikay

	zuo ci : Traditional
	Farewell to the groves of shillelagh and the shamrock
	Farewell to the girls of old
	Ireland all ' round
	And may their hearts be as merry as ever they could wish for
	As far away o' er the ocean
	I' m boundMy father is old and my mother' s right feeble
	To leave their own country, it would grieve their heart sore
	Oh, the tears down their cheeks, in great floods they are rolling
	To think that
	I must die upon some far and foreign shore
	But what matter to me, where my bones they may lie buried
	If in peace and contentment
	I can spend my life
	The green fields of
	Amerikay, they daily are calling
	It' s there
	I' ll find an end to my misery and strife
	So pack up your sea stores now, consider it no longer
	Ten dollars a week isn' t very bad pay
	With no taxes or tithe there to devour up your wages
	Across on the green fields of
	AmerikayThe lint dams are gone and the looms are lying idle
	Gone are the winders of baskets and creels
	And away o' er the ocean, go journeyman cowboys
	And fiddlers who play out the old mountain reels
	Ah, but I mind the time when old
	Ireland was flourishing
	And most of her tradesmen did work for good pay
	Ah, but since our manufacturers have crossed the
	AtlanticWell, it' s now that
	I must follow onto
	AmerikayAnd now to conclude and to finish my ditty
	If e' er a friendless
	Irishman should happen my way
	With the best in the house,
	I will greet him and welcome him
	At home on the green fields of
	AmerikaySo pack up your sea stores now, consider it no longer
	Ten dollars a week isn' t very bad pay
	With no taxes or tithe there to devour up your wages
	Across on the green fields of
	Amerikay

	zuò cí : Traditional
	Farewell to the groves of shillelagh and the shamrock
	Farewell to the girls of old
	Ireland all ' round
	And may their hearts be as merry as ever they could wish for
	As far away o' er the ocean
	I' m boundMy father is old and my mother' s right feeble
	To leave their own country, it would grieve their heart sore
	Oh, the tears down their cheeks, in great floods they are rolling
	To think that
	I must die upon some far and foreign shore
	But what matter to me, where my bones they may lie buried
	If in peace and contentment
	I can spend my life
	The green fields of
	Amerikay, they daily are calling
	It' s there
	I' ll find an end to my misery and strife
	So pack up your sea stores now, consider it no longer
	Ten dollars a week isn' t very bad pay
	With no taxes or tithe there to devour up your wages
	Across on the green fields of
	AmerikayThe lint dams are gone and the looms are lying idle
	Gone are the winders of baskets and creels
	And away o' er the ocean, go journeyman cowboys
	And fiddlers who play out the old mountain reels
	Ah, but I mind the time when old
	Ireland was flourishing
	And most of her tradesmen did work for good pay
	Ah, but since our manufacturers have crossed the
	AtlanticWell, it' s now that
	I must follow onto
	AmerikayAnd now to conclude and to finish my ditty
	If e' er a friendless
	Irishman should happen my way
	With the best in the house,
	I will greet him and welcome him
	At home on the green fields of
	AmerikaySo pack up your sea stores now, consider it no longer
	Ten dollars a week isn' t very bad pay
	With no taxes or tithe there to devour up your wages
	Across on the green fields of
	Amerikay

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