In this quiet place I stand alone,
From my homeland far away.
And my empty heart cannot recall,
The forgotten dreams that brought me joy

Had I ways to shed the wasted years,
I would travel to my kin.
And with strength and faith in God above,
There in Ireland I would gladly die.

   --- instrumental ---

I am one of seven brothers.
Five of us must leave and start again.
In this land of Saints and Martyrs,
Tears of sadness hide within the rain.

So fare thee well, Remember me...
Sail from the Harbour of Tears

I can hear my father calling        Goodbye, lad... I'll miss you,
'Godspeed, my son,                  Though I don't show it.
Wherever you may go'                I am a farmer of the land,
He looked so small                  I'm not a man of words.
Down on the quayside.               Forgive me my failing,
A man I guess                       You never knew me.
I'll never really know.             Godspeed wherever you may go...

So fare thee well,
Remember me...
Sail from the Harbour of Tears

   --- instrumental ---

I work for the Union Pike, out on the Western Line.
I found Uncle Sean in Denver, and he and his wife are fine.
They send their best, and like the rest -
They send home the slates.

It took six months from the Cobh, another six by land,
But the pay is good, and as I should
I'll send home the slates.

Back on your feet now lads,
Our time for writing home has passed.
Six miles to spike today, that's what we need.

So fast lads we must advance,
Work to the Gandy dance.
Six days to double pay, that's our reward -
But not 'til the line goes down.

I'll not send empty letters, I know you need the rent.
Dad, you deserve a new pair of boots, I know it's money well spent.
So kind regards, I'll work hard -
To send home the slates.

PS. Dear Ma,
I send my picture.
Don't let the family forget me...

   --- instrumental ---

Watching the bobbins, go up and down.
Fine Irish linen for a ladies gown.

One shirt a penny, seven in a tag;
Ten hours a day and her heart begins to drag.

This never ending cycle goes on.
But she promised she would never stay...
For long.

Rocking the treadle, ache in her soul.
She keeps the rhythm and it takes a toll.

Threading the needle, strains in her eyes.
Old withered fingers steal her young girl's pride

She's saving every penny she earns,
Because the passion for her freedom
Still burns.

   --- instrumental ---

Listen now boys, my grandmother said -
I'll tell you a story and then off to bed.
There once was a time, we lived off the land.
Harvest would come, and we all lent a hand

But winds blew our lives, and scattered our seeds.
Changing the landscape, from flowers to weeds.
See in the graveyard the families gone.
The grandest of tombstones carry them on...

When you sail from the Harbour,
It's your last eyes of Ireland.

We tended the fire, and faeries appeased
The flame never died until we had to leave.
And when we were gone, the house tumbled down
And covered our footprints, we'd left on the ground.

When you sail from the Harbour,
It's your last eyes of Ireland.

My eyes are now tired and no longer see.
But visions of Ireland linger in me.
So carry your past in the rooms of your heart
And you'll never he empty of love when you part

When you sail from the Harbour,
It's your last eyes of Ireland.

   --- instrumental ---

Searching for fragments of old yesterday,
I stand at the edge of my childhood to find,
I long for the shadows that danced at the end of the day...

   --- instrumental ---

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