This version of Greenfields evolved from my early hearing of the recording by the innovative Irish hand, Planxty, my study of the Paddy Tunney version, and 15 years of singing the ballad in many moods. Like all great songs, this one takes on a life of its own in every singer's mouth. I found the first line of this version in the New York City Public Library.
For my father, who emigrated from Canada
Farewell to the groves of the sweet county Antrim
Farewell to the people of old Ireland all round
May their hearts be as merry as ever I would wish them
When far away on the ocean I'm bound
Oh my mother is old and my father is failing
To leave their own country it grieves their hearts so
Ah the tears in great drops down their cheeks they are rolling
To think they must die, upon a foreign shore
But what matter to me where my bones may be buried
If in peace and contentment I can spend my life
Oh the green fields of Canada, they daily are looming
It's there I'll put an end to my misery and strife
The sheep run unsheared, and the land's gone to rushes
The handyman's gone and the winders of creels
Away 'cross the ocean, good journeymen tailors
And fiddlers that flail out the old mountain reels
But I mind the time when old Ireland was flourishing
When lots of her tradesmen could work for good pay
But soon so many factories had crossed the Atlantic
It's now we must follow to Arnerikay
