An Exiles Farewell

This song is part of the Dan Courtney collection. It was sung by one of P. Walsh’s past pupils, as he was about to depart to the U.S.A. It is not known at this time if it is a composition of Courtney’s but it is likely that he had an input in it. The Glen that is referred to is Toorsaleen and Coomaspeara. The reference in verse eight to ‘buying up the news’ refers to the ‘News of the world’ newspaper, a scandalous publication at that time, but in much demand.

Flow on, lovely Inny, South-West to the sea,

Flow gently; I’m taking a last look at thee,

For I now must depart to a far foreign shore,

And my sweet, sparkling Inny, I’ll see thee no more.

I must go though our boys fought for Dark Rosaleen,

West around Tureen Sigh and in East Bunadreen,

And they routed the Tans whom they left sad and sore,

And their fame is now high like the Boys of Filemore.

I can’t bear the politicians who say we ae free,

When the Gaels in their thousands must flee o’er the sea,

And our hopes of employment are withered and dead,

If the Commeragh scheme is now knocked on the head.

My good teacher, Pat Walsh say that I was a fool,

I could have a good job, If I minded the school,

But the days that are gone can be never brought back,

I must now toil and moil with the shovel and pick.

When, to see all the neighbours I went ‘round the Glen,

I met Denis Sheehan- that leader of men.

In fine flowery language he bade me goodbye,

But I knew how he felt, by the tear in his eye.

The gils and the boys came here by the score,

And we danced and we danced, as we ne’er danced before,

To the sweet violin music, so lively and gay,

Played by Paddy Mooulgore and by Eugie O’Shea.

Here among the old neighbours in spirit I’ll be,

When the bright lights of Boston are shining on me,

Though I’d have the best time that I ever yet knew,

And rolling in riches-as rich as a Jew.

Mastergeehy on Sundays now seem like a dream,

With its’ long line of cycles that glitter and gleam,

And crowds near the Post Office lined out there in queues,

Around John J O’Mahony, buying up the news.

From the home of my childhood it grieves me to go,

When I think of the dear ones it’d four walls did know,

Its’ roof, windows and doors in the damp will decay,

While its’ last lonely tenant is far, far away.

Lovely land of the Inny farewell unto thee,

for thy dear scenes I’ll pine when I’m far o’er the sea,

as I leave my old home I now feast on that view,

Then, sweet Barra na h-Inna a long last adieu.