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Here, by the Mulcair banks I strayed,
'Neath the lovely flowers in June;
The birds were singing merrily,
And the meadow's in full bloom.
When on my boyhood days I think,
Sure, the tears come rolling down;
For it's in the morning I must leave
You, dear old Newport town.
How lonely is the pigeon's coo,
And sad the blackbird's lae;
For loud and high the thrush's call,
On a bright, long summer's day.
There I'll sit down and cry my fill,
Till the flood comes rushing down,
And dashes through the ivy bridge
In dear old Newport town.
Tipperary's hills and dells farewell,
From you I now must part;
I'll ne'er again roam Cullen's grove,
Sure the thought near breaks my heart.
When I think of the hurling and the dance,
And Keeper's summit brow;
And the days I fished in the turn hole
In dear old Newport town.
Farewell a while, sweet Gortnanoe,
Where I'd oft times chase the hare,
Through Cathar Hills and Carrowkeal,
And Cully's mountains bare.
And sweet Clare glens it's flowerey dells,
Where I oft roamed up and down;
With the boys and girls who now are far
From dear old Newport town.
Adieu, adieu, sweet Newport town,
Once more I'll say adieu;
For many's the plesant day I spent,
With comrades loyal and true.
And if God spares me I'll return,
To where the Mulcair waters flow;
And when I die my bones will lie
In dear old Ballymakeogh.
