Emigrants.

“Well it's goodbye Mick and goodbye Pat

And goodbye Kate and Mary

The anchors up I’m leaving Tipperary”.

Bojangle’s is bouncing the barroom floor.

Pints are tasting musty and sometimes nearly nasty.

“Big Eyes” is looking for a ring.

The sergeant is scowling last warnings.

No longer fit enough till half time.

According to mother my bedroom is a dirty hovel,

And she is no longer doing my laundry.

I had better borrow the fare from John Pat my neighbour

Who is looking to buy the good field near his place,

When the auld fellow dies.

You can’t get your breath! can you nowadays

One thing after the other

No time to think or to talk it out with anyone either ,

There is no one left!!

I suppose, Its, Perth, Boston, London, or Melbourne

Unless I want to be a stranger some where?!.