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.