On the deck of Lynch's boat, here I sit in woeful plight,
Through my sighing all the day and my weeping all the night.
Were it not that full of grief from my people forth I go,
O, 'tis royally I'd sing all thy praises, sweet Mayo.

When I dwelt at home in peace, and my gold did much abound,
In the midst of fair young maids, how the Spanish ale went round!
Oh! the change from that gay day thus, across the ocean flow,
To be laid in Santa Cruz far and far from sweet Mayo.

Sadly changed are Irrul's girls; very proud they've grown and high
With their patches and their powder, for I pass their buckes by;
But their airs I little heed, since the Lord will have it so
That I'm forced to foreign lands far and far from sweet Mayo.

'Tis my grief that Patrick Loughlin is not Earl in Irrul still,
And that Brian Duff no more rules as lord upon the hill,
And that Colonel Hugh O'Grady should be lying dead and low,
And I sailing, sailing swift from the County of Mayo.