In keeping with the short story I published in response to the New West Writers prompt, I’m giving you today the complete words to The Hills of Kerry (aka The Green Hills of Kerry.) You can hear a lovely version by the Dublin City Ramblers here.


The palm trees wave on high all along the fertile shore.
Adieu, the Hills of Kerry, I ne’er will see no more.
Oh, why did I leave my home, 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 off to a foreign land where the wild canons roar.
No more they’ll see the shamrock, or the hills 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 our reaper singing in a golden field of corn.
There’s a band for every woe and a cure for every pain,
But the happiness of my darling girl I never will see again.

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