I walk away from this ***** grey quay, step onto an equally ***** old boat
Only God and a sailors skill will keep this old thing afloat

I'm saying goodbye to the place that I know, a place of hunger and toil
I sail in search of the promised land, of sunshine and rich fertile soil

Will I look back to the place that I've left as I sail off over the sea?
No, for it might drag me back to a place where I don't want to be

Like the brave men of old I have to be bold in the search for my new destiny
I leave behind a life of servitude for a new life where I can be free

No magical skills do I bring with me, just a love of the land and the soil
But in my new promised land I will be free and for only myself will I toil

In my bag a handful of seed, a small Axe and a knife that I own
But its with these crude tools in my promised land I'll carve out a place to call home

The ship sails on and old Ireland is gone 'tis now just a faint memory
Soon I'll be there breathing freedoms fresh air in my new land the land of the free