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Sweet Erin the Green / The Forger’s Farewell

[ Roud 6992 ; Ballad Index BdErGre3 ; Mudcat 112937 ; trad.]

Frank Harte sang Sweet Erin the Green in 1975 on his RAM album And Listen to My Song. He noted:

I had no knowledge that this song existed until I heard it sung in Kerry this year by Dónal Maguire who comes from Drogheda, but who heard the song sung in England. It tells the story of a young man apprenticed as an engraver who turns to forging banknotes on the Bank of Scotland partly it seems to help the poor, he is traced to Belfast by a spy and eventually transported.

When I heard this song I was fascinated by the way in which the words and music run together with such strange timing to make a very exciting song. It comes originally from the repertoire of the late Robert Cinnamond from Belfast.

Lyrics

Frank Harte sings Sweet Erin the Green

Farewell lovely Erin I am now going to leave you,
May peace be on your daisy-clad hills.
In wild foreign lands I am bound for to praise you
And I’ll sing of your sweet winding rills.

My parents for my welfare they did their endeavour,
As parents they would do for any son.
They bound me in me early days to be an engraver,
But alas by that art I’m undone.

I set the plates for forging notes and that I’ll ne’er deny,
Drawn on the Sank of Scotland and that company I defied.
They traced me to Belfast, all through a hirеd spy,
Which parted me from my Sweet Erin the Green.

Whеn my enemy assailed me, no dagger I drew,
He was of a savage temper, but with a smile I did subdue.
The noble bonds of charity I held all in my view
From my childhood in Sweet Erin the Green.

Well, it was not for murder that I received my sentence,
I ardently loved all mankind.
From the naked I clothed I made the acquaintance
Of friendships sincere and sublime.

And now in this harbour of commerece and pleasure
William Hill he now bids you farewell,
You’re the fairest in the North for talent and treasure
And may peace and good will with you dwell.

And though the cruel oceans between us now do roll
My heart will be as constant as the needle to the pole.
A poor convict I’ll remain, my sad spirits to condole,
Far away from you, my Sweet Erin the Green.