Times were hard for mayo farms; there was no room for me
my parents then concluded i must ship across the sea
to seek employment in the homes, of boston's rich and grand
and help my family to withstand the want in ireland
My mother said a prayer for me, my father hid his weeping
i made a promise to myself that i am ever keeping
despite the troubles that may come, the hard times i might know
i'll never trade my island green for castles made of gold
Though my given name is aoise, they call me bridget here
i've worked my hands to bleeding in the laundry tubs three years
i send my wages home each month and a letter i dictate
and i dream of mayo all the time, both sleeping and awake
I do not want for very much, and people aren't unkind
i have ribbons for my hair now, and a sunday dress so fine
but i miss the hills of my native home, where i labored and i played
and i dream of mayo all the time, every night and day
It's fifteen years have passed me now, i've raised my only son
i brought my sisters over, though my parents are long gone
i keep my prayers and songs alive, build castles out of hope
and i think of mayo when i can as the troubles come and go
I could never take the measure of all i've left behind
some would say the treasures i have lost
could ne'er be bought again
not for streets all paved in diamonds, or castles made of gold
all i've left of ireland now is all my heart can hold
all i've left of ireland new is all my heart can hold
Sometimes around midnight, when all the worlds' abed
i sit alone beside the fire and dream of times long fled
and i dream of mayo half-awake, and then again asleep
and i wonder if my life right here might really be as sweet
I dream of mayo half-awake and then again asleep
and i think the homesickness that pains might someday finally heal
for all the times both hard and fine -the dreams i've lost and sold
i've never traded my island green for castles made of gold