The old man of An Cuiltheann

There was once an old man
Who called An Cuiltheann home
He gazes silent far ‘cross the sea
Longing for his son to him come home

Jack, his boy, was restless

And wanted not to stay

In the land where he was raised

In the mountains of An Cuiltheann

Black, unforgiving

Cold and wretched stone

The old man of An Cuiltheann

Watches for Jack to him come home

Jack left by MacBrayne

Heading for New York

Eighteen and but one day

From the land where he was born

But Queens wanted trouble

For Jacks wallet Queensy tried to kill him dead

They fought but Jack was stronger

And broke poor Queensys neck

Picked up by police

And thrown in jail to rot

Forty year before he’ll get out

Poor Jack won’t be coming back

Now Jack he gazes far for home

but long before he’ll see that land again

While the old man of An Cuiltheann

Watches for Jack to him come home

So he won’t be coming home

He’ll ne’er be coming back

An Cuiltheann’s getting darker

An Cuiltheann’s getting black