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Adieu to Belashanny! / where I was bred and born; / Go where I may, I'll think of you, / as sure as night and morn. / The kindly spot, the friendly town, / where every one is known, / And not a face in all the place / but partly seems my own; / There's not a house or window, / there's not a field or hill, / But, east or west, in foreign lands, / I'll recollect them still. / I leave my warm heart with you, / tho' my back I'm forced to turn -- / Adieu to Belashanny, / and the winding banks of Erne!
No more on pleasant evenings / we'll saunter down the Mall, / When the trout is rising to the fly, / the salmon to the fall. / The boat comes straining on her net, / and heavily she creeps, / Cast off, cast off -- she feels the oars, / and to her berth she sweeps; / Now fore and aft keep hauling, / and gathering up the clew, / Till a silver wave of salmon / rolls in among the crew. / Then they may sit, with pipes a-lit, / and many a joke and 'yarn'; -- / Adieu to Belashanny, / and the winding banks of Erne!