In the fair bay of Dublin, while carelessly strolling
I sat myself down near a clear, crystal stream
Reclined on the beach, in wild accents deploring
In sorrow condoling, I heard a fair maid

Her hopes changed to mourning, that once were so glorious
I stood in amazement to hear her sad tale
Her heartstrings were torn in wild accents so glorious
Saying, "Where is my blackbird of sweet Avondale?"

"In the fair counties Kerry, true Cork and Tipperary
The rights of old Ireland, my blackbird did sing
But woe to the hour, with the dark lights in Derry
When he from my arms to Dublin took way"

"Oh heaven, give ear to my supplication
And strengthen the bold songs of old Graínne Mhaol
And promise that my country will soon be a nation
And bring back my blackbird of sweet Avondale"

"Oh, Erin, my country, awake from your slumbers
And bring back my blackbird, so dear unto me
And let everyone know, by the strength of your numbers
That we, as a nation, would like to be free"