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.