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West-Bound

I used to love my country, my home, my Ireland
But now, I would without a doubt, slap it with the back of my hand
I must say I do enjoy my country’s magnificent hospitality
But that’s probably the only thing I like, in all actuality
Gretta and I need to move out west, to the land of opportunity
Where we can truly find a home and perhaps a warm community
I listen to others rave about the places they come from
But I am sick to my stomach of my home because of what it has become
The old lady Miss Ivors does not understand how I feel; she doesn’t get me
For she wants to stay here, while I’d rather go free
America is in the direction of west
Where life is better and the people are blessed
Who am I to stay here, to complain and weep?
I’m just going to head west, so I no longer feel like the lonesome black sheep
It will be a difficult journey but hopefully with great reward
America here I come, my new land, a new home, my place to soar





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