Skibbereen (chromatic)

SKIBBEREEN
19th C. Irish folk song
Sinead O’Connor, The Wolfe Tones
Key: D

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Oh, Fa-ther dear, I oft times hear 
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you speak of Er-in's Isle, 
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Her loft-y scene, and val-leys green, 
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her moun-tains rude and wild 
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They say she is a pret-ty place 
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Where-in a prince might dwell, 
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Oh, why did you a-ban-don her, 
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the rea-son  to me tell? 

Oh, son I loved my native land 
with energy and pride 
'Til a blight came over on my crops, 
my sheep and cattle died, 
The rent and taxes were so high, 
I could not them redeem, 
And that's the cruel reason why 
I left old Skibbereen. 

Oh, It's well I do remember 
that bleak December day, 
The landlord and the sheriff came 
to drive us all away 
They set my roof on fire with their 
demon yellow spleen 
And that's another reason why 
I left old Skibbereen. 

Your mother too, God rest her soul, 
fell on the snowy ground, 
She fainted in her anguish seeing 
the desolation round. 
She never rose but passed away 
from life to mortal dream, 
She found a quiet grave, my boy 
in dear old Skibbereen. 

And you were only two years old 
and feeble was your frame, 
I could not leave you with your friends, 
you bore your father's name, 
I wrapped you in my cóta mór 
in the dead of night unseen 
I heaved a sigh and said goodbye 
to dear old Skibbereen