There was comfort ever on your lip, and the kind look on your brow;
I bless you for the same, Mary, though you cannot hear me now.
I thank you for the patient smile, when your heart was like to break,
When the hunger-pain was gnawing there, and you hid it for my sake!
I bless you for the pleasant word, when your heart was sad and sore;
Oh! I am thankful you are gone, Mary, where grief can sting no more.
I’m bidding you a long farewell, my Mary, kind and true,
But I’ll not forget you, darling, in the land I’m going to,
They say there’s bread and work for all, and the sun shines always there;
But I’ll not forget Old Ireland, were it fifty times as fair!