Ode To A Sweep

Ode To A Sweep

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OH, come back again, to the land of your birth,

Sweet Ballina town on the Moy,

For since you did go from your home in Mayo,

Our hearts know no peace or no joy;

You left us to toil in far foreign clime,

That thought sure alone would provoke,

For we would not care, if you left in the rear,

An apprentice to look after the smoke.

I’ll admit it’s tough when the chimneys puff,

And you far over the brine,

Should you stand near the Quay, at the close of the day,

You would think they were all on Woodbine!

So be a good sport when you get your passport,

It’s happy forever you’ll be,

God’s blessing you bring, and you’ll live like a king,

In your cottage in old Ardnaree.

Our brave city fathers will welcome you back,

And on your laurels will crown,

You’ll remember for aye of that glorious day

You became a Freeman of our town;

For what’s Saxon gold to the position you hold,

A keyman in Fair Grainuaile?

Bad luck to the day when you sailed away,

We are left for to weep and to tail;

And in years to come, in the great book of fame,

You’ll stand by the true and the free,

So answer our call and come, in the fall,

To your cottage in old Ardnaree.

                          Moy Rover

                             Ballina. 1950