When I left Cullybackey
My heart was full of woe,
The parting was a sad one,
But, still, I had to go.

I had my Sunday suit on,
My old clothes were put away;
I was bound for New York
By way of Derry quay.

I’ve been in U.S.A.
For twenty years or more,
But, oh! how I remember
Leaving Derry’s shore.

I still work for a living,
I guess I always shall,
For Fortune’s always absent
Every time I call.

I yearn for my home town,
But still I carry on
In hopes I’ll make a fortune
Or meet a leprechaun.

I dream of Cullybackey
And silv’ey winding Maine;
‘Tis there I’d love to ramble
Amid old scenes again.

And when the last Reveille
Sounds its clarion strain
I hope that I shall answer
From somewhere near the Maine.

H. H. McFall September 1939

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