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THAT TUMBLE DOWN SHACK IN ATHLONE (Richard W. Pascoe / Monte Carlo, Alma Sanders, 1918) I'm a long way from home and my thoughts ever roam To ould Erin far over the sea; For my heart it is there, where the skies are so fair And ould Ireland is calling for me. There are eyes that are sad, as they watch for a lad, In the old fashioned town of Athlone; And I pray for the day, when I'm sailing away, To ould Ireland, and mother, my own. Oh! I want to go back to that tumble down shack, Where the wild roses bloom 'round the door; Just to pillow my head, in that ould trundle bed, Just to see my ould mother once more. There's a bright gleaming light, guiding me home tonight, Down the long road of white cobble stone; Down the road that leads back, to that tumble down shack, To that tumble down shack in Athlone.


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