The Fields of Athenry
 
 Written by Pete St. John
 
Low, lie, the Fields of Athenry.
Where once we watched the small free birds fly.
Our love was on the wing, we had dreams and songs to sing.
It’s so lonely ’round the Fields of Athenry.
 
By a lonely prison wall, I heard the young girl calling: 
“Michael, they are taking you away.
For you stole Trevelyn’s corn,
so the young might see the morn,
  now a prison ship lies waiting in the bay.”
 
By a lonely, prison wall, I heard a young man calling:
“Nothing matters Mary when you’re free. 
Against the Famine and the Crown,
I rebelled they shot me down.
Now you must raise our child with dignity.”
By a lonely, harbor wall, she watched the last star falling,
as the prison ship sailed out against the sky. 
Sure she’ll wait and hope and pray,
for her love in Botany Bay.
 It’s so lonely ’round the Fields of Athenry.