My father left old Ireland so many years ago,
He left his home in Galway where the green, green shamrocks grow;
He met my darling mother on a boat to Newfoundland,
And it didn't take him long before he'd won her heart and hand.
They both came to this island as happy as could be,
To settle down together and raise a family;
They built a little cottage and started to combine,
The green of the shamrock with the green of the pine.
From an island to an island, from the green to the green,
They left their homes to settle in a place they'd never seen;
They exchanged the hills of Newfoundland for the ones they'd left behind,
And the green of the shamrock for the green of the pine.
As their family grew around them, their eyes shone bright with pride,
They'd go to church each sunday morn', strolling side by side;
Each evening 'round the turf-fire to heaven would ascend,
The decades of the rosary for all in Ireland.
Now the years passed by so quickly, and death we all must face,
We laid our loving parents in their final resting place;
Yet they taught me to be thankful for this heritage that's mine,
The green of the shamrock and the green of the pine.
From an island to an island, from the green to the green,
They left their homes to settle in a place they'd never seen;
They exchanged the hills of Newfoundland for the ones they'd left behind,
And the green of the shamrock for the green of the pine.
The green of the shamrock for the green of the pine.

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