| Down past Dunlewey's bonny lakes one morning I did stray | |
| Until I reached sweet Clady banks where the silvery salmon play | |
| I strolled around through old Bunbeg and down along the shore | |
| And gazed with admiration on the green fields of Gaothdobhair | |
| I visit Magherclocher on Middletown heights I stand | |
| Beneath me lies the ocean wide and Machergallon strand | |
| Those sandy banks so dear to me, those banks I do adore | |
| Behind me lies sweet Derrybeg and the green fields of Gaothdobhair | |
| The bonny Isle of Gola and Inishmean so near | |
| I see the little fishing fleet as it lies along the pier | |
| I wander through the graveyard where those have gone before | |
| That once lived happy and content by the green fields of Gaothdobhair | |
| I see sweet Inish Oirthir and far off Tory Isle | |
| I view the ocean liners as they steam along in style | |
| On board are Irish emigrants with hearts both sad and sore | |
| As they gazed on old Tir Chonaill hills and the green fields of Gaothdobhair |
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