A stream like crystal it runs down, As plainly may be seen:
It's there you'll find the Irish oak, Trimmed with the ivy green;
The shamrock, rose and thistle, The lily too beside,
All flourish there together, boys, Along the Faughan side.
Oh, could you see that lovely place, All in the summer time;
Each bush and tree, they look so gay; Each meadow in its prime;
The blackbird and the golden thrush, They tune their notes so gay;
But still I had the notion Of going to Ameri-cay.
Farewell unto this lovely place From it I mean to roam.
To leave my friends in Ireland, And my dear old Irish home.
Farewell unto my comrades, And the place where they reside,
For many a happy night we spent Along the Faughan side.
It's about two miles from Derry To the bridge of Drumahoe,
Where many a happy night we spent, In the days of long ago;
Where lambs do sport and fair maids court, And the small fish gently glide,
In the blooming spring the small birds sing Along the Faughan side.
The leaving of this lovely place, It grieves my heart full sore,
And the leaving of my own true love, It grieves me ten times more;
But if ever I return again, I will make her my bride,
And I'll take her in my arms, boys, Along the Faughan side.
It's there you'll find the Irish oak, Trimmed with the ivy green;
The shamrock, rose and thistle, The lily too beside,
All flourish there together, boys, Along the Faughan side.
Oh, could you see that lovely place, All in the summer time;
Each bush and tree, they look so gay; Each meadow in its prime;
The blackbird and the golden thrush, They tune their notes so gay;
But still I had the notion Of going to Ameri-cay.
Farewell unto this lovely place From it I mean to roam.
To leave my friends in Ireland, And my dear old Irish home.
Farewell unto my comrades, And the place where they reside,
For many a happy night we spent Along the Faughan side.
It's about two miles from Derry To the bridge of Drumahoe,
Where many a happy night we spent, In the days of long ago;
Where lambs do sport and fair maids court, And the small fish gently glide,
In the blooming spring the small birds sing Along the Faughan side.
The leaving of this lovely place, It grieves my heart full sore,
And the leaving of my own true love, It grieves me ten times more;
But if ever I return again, I will make her my bride,
And I'll take her in my arms, boys, Along the Faughan side.