The palm trees wave on high,
Far beyond that fertile shore,
Farewell, you hills of Kerry,
I never will see you more,
Why did I leave my home?
And why did I cross the sea?
And leave the small birds singing,
Around you, sweet Tralee.

The noble and the brave,
Have departed from our shore,
They've gone on to a foreign land,
Where the wild cannons roar,
No more I'll see the Shamrock,
That plant so dear to me,
Or hear the small birds singing,
Around you, sweet Tralee.

No more the sun will shine,
On that blessed harvest morn,
Or hear the small birds singing,
In a golden field of corn,
There's an end to every woe,
And a cure for every pain,
But the happiness of my darling girl,
I never will see again.

Oh, the palm trees wave on high,
Far beyond that fertile shore,
Farewell, you hills of Kerry,
I never will see you more,
Why did I leave my home?
And why did I cross the sea?
And leave the small birds singing,
Around you, sweet Tralee.

And leave the small birds singing,
Around you, sweet Tralee.