I'm bidding farewell to the land of my youth,
And the homes I loved so well,
And the mountains grand of my own native land,
I am bidding them all farewell,
With an aching heart I'll bid them adieu,
For tomorrow we'll sail far away,
O'er the raging foam to seek a home,
On the shores of Americay.

It's not for the want of employment I'm going,
It's not for to seek some fame,
That fortune's bright may shine over me,
And give me a glorious name,
It's not for the want of employment I'm going,
O'er the dreary and stormy sea,
But to seek a home for my own true love,
On the shores of Americay.

And when I am bidding my last farewell,
The tears like rain will fall,
To think of my friends in my own native land,
And the home in old Ireland so small,
But if I'm to die on a far foreign shore,
And be buried so far, far away,
No fond mother's tears will be shed o'er my grave,
On the shores of Americay.