Turtle Creek, PA
The man stood forlorn, looking tattered and torn
The ship rail gripped tight in his hands
As he stared 'cross the bay, in hushed voice did he say
"Fare thee well to ye, sweet Ireland"
He then turned to me, in his eyes I did see
A man who was filled with despair.
He started to speak as a tear crossed his cheek
Soft ocean breeze tousling his hair.
"Back there, it is said, that I killed a man dead
Tis a lie but I daern't take a stand
For it was me dear wife who had wielded th'knife
To the taxman who'd take all our land."
"So now must I roam, travel far from me home.
To protect her, I'll do what I can.
I'll sail all the seas but m'heart won't be free
For it's there, in fair Ireland
Fare thee well to ye, sweet Ireland"
[This message has been edited by Terri (edited 08-16-99).]