Land of the O’Connor


As I sit here in my rocking chair in the city of New York
And watch the teaming masses as they hurry to their work
My mind it sometimes slips away back to my native home
And I’m once again by Shannonside where kings sat on their throne

Oh, Land of the O’Connor, the county of my birth
Roscommon you mean more to me than any place on earth
It was within your fond embrace I gave out my first cry
And your warm earth will cradle me when I bid this world goodbye

It’s well that I recall the days spent in the local school
The master with his sally rod that helped him keep the rule
But for this rod there was no need when history came round
And our young hearts would fill with pride as we sat there spellbound

He taught us of our ancient past and our great history
He told us we should not forget, or from life’s troubles flee,
And as we made our way through life, be it with pen or hod
To remember we’re a noble race from the land where kings once trod

Well, I travelled all around the world, any place I could find work
I saw the good times and the bad before settling in New York
I’m living here this many years with family and friends
And we reminisce on times long past, when the day comes to an end

And when I finally pass away and go to meet my God
They’ll carry me across the sea back to my native sod
We’ll cross the rippling waters wide on to Roscommon soil
For one last drive by Shannon’s side, to end life’s weary toil


Written by Paddy Lohan from Bealnamullia, Co. Roscommon, and set to music by Johnny Johnston

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