| So fair ye well sweet Donegal,
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| The Rosses and Gweedore,
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| I’m the crossing main ocean,
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| Where the plunging bellows roar.
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| It breaks my heart for us to part,
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| Where I spent many happy days,
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| Far away from friends and relations,
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| I’m bound for Amerikay.
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| Now Mary, she’s my heart’s delight,
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| My joy, and only care,
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| It was her cruel father,
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| Who would not let me stay there.
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| But absence makes, the heart grow fond,
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| And when I’m o’er the main,
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| May the Lord protect my darling girl,
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| 'Till I return again.
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| I wish I was in sweet Dungloe,
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| All seated on the grass,
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| And by my side, a bottle,
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| And on my knee a lass.
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| I’d call for liquor, of the best,
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| And I’d pay before I go,
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| And I roll my Mary in my arms,
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| I the town of sweet Dungloe. |